


Forgetting You

by klancinglettuce (orphan_account)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Barista Lance (Voltron), F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith thinks Lance is cute, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Fluff, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Mechanic Keith (Voltron), Oblivious Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-01-29 14:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21411493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/klancinglettuce
Summary: When Lance sees Keith again, it's two years later, and the raven-haired prodigy doesn't even remember him. It's upsetting, to say the least, but he can take it. But when his former rival-slash-crush moves moves into the same building as him, things get a little more complicated.Featuring lots of pining Lance, and a very confused Keith who just wants to get to know the cute Cuban boy living on his floor.
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 73
Kudos: 425





	1. Chapter 1

Sunlight is streaming into the coffee shop where the blinds have been pulled up, reflecting off the freshly scrubbed floors, and catching the little particles of dust drifting through the air. Lance lets out a sigh and lifts his hand to wipe at his brow with the back of his wrist, the area heated but not actually damp. When his boss, Allura, asked him to start taking the morning shifts at Altea Coffee, he hadn’t thought twice, jumping at the opportunity to lose his position on the dreadful night shift, as well as get on his boss’s good side. What he hadn’t considered, however, was the fact that he, Lance McClain, was in no way, shape, or form, an early riser. Nope, college had sucked the will to wake up before the sun straight out of him.  


A groan sounds off behind him, and Lance smirks as perhaps the only person having a worse time than him emerges from the storage room. Despite his own exhaustion, there was no way he was passing up the opportunity to annoy his coworker and old friend, and he spins around with more energy than he has, clapping his hands together loudly and making his short companion flinch.  


“Well _hello_, Pidgeon,” he coos, breaking into the biggest smile he can muster. Pidge glares up at him through squinted eyes and musty glasses, not amused.  


“It’s too damn early for your shit, McClain,” she quips, turning to wipe down the register.  


“Aw, don’t be like that,” Lance whines, “I can’t be excited to see you?” Pidge doesn’t spare him a glance, flipping him off with her free hand.  


“Lotor!” Lance calls for their third coworker, “Pidge is bullying me again!” Pidge whips around, mouth open in silent protest as the tall, blonde man rounds the corner, hair half pulled up into a man-bun he somehow manages to pull off.  


“Both of you quite fighting,” he reprimands, “we have to get the shop ready before Allura comes to check in at noon. Lance, take the tables.” Lance rolls his eyes as Lotor returns to taking inventory in the back room. He levels Pidge with a knowing smirk, which she returns tenfold. Picking on each other was never as much fun as picking on Lotor.  


“Hey, Pidge?”  


“What is it, Lance?”  


“I think someone’s _whipped_ for a certain boss of ours,” Lance drawls loudly. The response from the back room is immediate, and the sound of boxes toppling to the floor is accompanied by Lotor’s fiery chorus of  


“SHUT UP!”  


***  


Two hours into their shift, Lance and Pidge run out of ways to annoy Lotor. A steady stream of customers files in and out of the shop, and Allura’s continued absence has Lotor on the two’s asses. _Four more hours_ Lance chants, willing himself to keep up his patience. Pidge slaps another order in front of him, and he picks up the sheet of paper, reading the instructions.  


_Venti Iced Americano_  
X2 Extra Shots  


Lance turns to face Pidge, blanching.  


“Five shots of espresso? There’s gotta be a rule against that.”  


“There aren’t rules when it comes to coffee, Lance.” Lance scoffs.  


“Well maybe there should be. I don’t know what kind of insomniac needs that much espresso all at once.” Pidge sends him a deadpan at that.  


“Read your audience.” She was right, Lance thought. Pidge was the queen of not sleeping. He sighs and begins the order. It’s an americano, and therefore quick to make, and by the time he finishes there’s still no line. He applies a lid to the cup, and steps through the swinging door into the lobby to scout out his customer. _Let’s see, he thinks, who here looks like they want to die the most_. His attention is first drawn to a towering man, well built with a white tuft of hair and a bright pink scar across his face. He looks tired, but not five shots of espresso tired, Lance thinks. Another man sits next to him and-  


Lance has to physically keep his jaw from dropping. The man he is looking at is _gorgeous_. He has long black hair in a style not far from a mullet, which he somehow manages to pull off, and piercing purple eyes Lance can see even from a distance. He’s clad in a black t-shirt and jeans, and dons fingerless gloves. He also just happens to look exactly like Keith Kogane, Lance’s former high school rival-slash-crush-thing. The two haven’t spoken- well, hadn’t _really_ spoken ever, but Lance hasn’t seen the boy in two years. He looks so much the same, but so different at the same time. He is definitely taller, discernible even while sitting down, his jaw has grown sharper to replace his once soft features, and a fresh pink scar crosses from that jawline up to the curve of his cheekbone.  


And then he has to go and look at Lance, head raising to lock eyes with the starstruck barista. Lance feels a blush rise to his cheeks as he realizes he’s been caught staring, and immediately resumes his pace, directly towards the pair’s table. The man next to Kogane looks up as Lance approaches, eyebrows raising in interest, and a question crosses Lance’s mind that he hadn’t previously considered. _Wait, is he on a date?_, followed promptly by a _wait, why do I care??_ Lance stops when he reaches the table, two pairs of eyes trained on him.  


“Uh- venti americano?” He asks, locking eyes with Keith again despite his better judgement.  


“That’s me,” Keith replies, and _damn_, had his voice always sounded that sexy? It was low and rough in pitch, somewhat gravelly. _Get it together, McClain_, Lance reprimands himself, and sets the coffee down on the table.  


“Thanks,” Keith says, and picks it up to take a sip. After a few moments of Lance not leaving, he looks up quizzically.  


“Ah- sorry,” Lance laughs nervously, “it’s just- long time no see, man.” Keith’s brow furrows at that, glancing to the man at his table before back up at Lance.  


“Sorry, do I… know you from somewhere?” Lance is surprised by the sheer force of the disappointment that rocks him at that question. Keith didn’t remember him at all?  


“Yeah, it’s me, Lance McClain?” he tries, “We went to Garrison High together. You know, Lance and Keith, neck and neck?” Keith was looking more uncomfortable by the minute.  


“Sorry,” he replies, long and drawn out, “I don’t recall a lot from high school.” Lance flushes a little, growing increasingly embarrassed.  


“It’s okay,” he says quietly, and then speaks up, “it’s totally fine, don’t worry! I’m just gonna,” he gestures wildly at the counter where Pidge and Lotor are watching with blatant curiosity, “enjoy the coffee.” Lance spins around and walks quickly back into the safety of the back room, cursing himself the whole way.  


He can’t believe it, Keith Kogane had totally forgotten him. Hell, it didn’t sound like the boy had ever _noticed_ him. Lance spent years comparing himself to the raven-haired boy, desperately studying for every test, and constantly failing to earn higher marks than the high school prodigy. It had taken until senior year, after Lance’s self-dubbed bisexual awakening, that he realized his feelings of anger and competitiveness towards Kogane were actually just a guise for a giant, massive, crush. Of course, senior year is when things got bad for Kogane, as well. The school’s straight A student did a complete 180 in his final year, and Lance was bombarded with rumors of Keith Kogane getting into fights after school, skipping classes, and the like. He had refused to believe it, until that fateful day after fifth period...  


Lance shakes his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He has a job to do, dammit. He steps out of the back room with his signature smile plastered on, and faces the ever growing line, and frustrated looks from his coworkers. It was going to be a long shift.  


***  


It’s a week later when Lance sees Keith again. The Cuban boy is exiting his, Hunk and Pidge’s shared apartment, when he hears a familiar voice.  


“-ust moved into town. Shiro’s moving to a bigger place with his fiance, and I wanted to be closer to them.” Lance promptly drops his keys, whipping around to see none other than Keith Kogane standing outside his apartment, chatting it up with his best friend.  


“Lance!” Hunk beams from where he’s standing at Keith’s side, arms full of groceries. “You remember Keith, right?” Keith, to his credit, looks somewhat embarrassed, shifting nervously.  


“Uh-huh,” Lance says dumbly, “I mean-”  


“You again,” Keith beats him to it. Lance nods.  


“Me again,” he says, and adds a grin for good measure. Fake it till you make it, right? He’ll just pretend this isn’t super awkward. And painful.  


“Lance is my roommate,” Hunk says, “he went to Garrison with us.” Keith nods slowly, looking to Lance again.  


“Sorry,” he says, “again, I just don’t...remember a lot of people. Hunk and I had homeroom together, and that’s why I…” he trails off.  


“It’s okay,” Lance says, “we didn’t talk, really, anyways. You don’t have to feel bad.” Keith smiles a little at that, and Lance tries not to feel things.  


“Keith just moved into the building, can you believe it?” Hunk asks, “what kind of luck?” _What kind of luck, indeed_, Lance thinks.  


“I guess we’ll be seeing more of you then?” Lance asks.  


“Yeah,” Keith says, “guess so.”  


“Oh!” Hunk exclaims, “Keith, you should have dinner with us tomorrow night!”  


“What?” Keith and Lance say at the same time.  


“Yeah,” Hunk continues, “it’ll be like a, ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ kind of thing. What do you say?” Keith looks surprised, and stumbles over his words before replying,  


“Yeah, sure.” Lance smiles brightly at Keith’s response despite himself, and tries to ignore the thrumming of his heartbeat. God, he’s screwed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys- sorry for the wait! This chapter is much longer than the first, and I was waiting to finish my draft for the next chapter before posting but I've been so busy lately I figured I wouldn't hold off any longer. With that being said, I'm going to try and get the next chapter out asap, but I don't know quite when just yet- likely sometime in the start of December. As always, feedback and kudos are always appreciated! Enjoy!!

When Lance arrives home from his Friday shift, he’s greeted by the heavenly smell of Hunk’s special _pasta carbonara_ recipe wafting into the entryway. The tall boy swings the door open, mouth already watering, and makes a beeline for the kitchen where his friend stands manning the oven.

“Hunkk,” Lance drawls, hooking his chin over the man’s shoulder, peeved when his whine receives no response.

_“Hunkk_,” he tries again, more emphatically this time. 

“What is it, Lance?” Hunk asks, barely sparing him a glance, he’s so honed into his craft.

“Nothing,” Lance shrugs, “just that if you keep cooking like this, I’m _literally_ going to have to marry you someday. Oh- wait, that’s Shay’s job.” Lance feels the moment Hunk’s shoulders tense, and takes a step back with a shit eating grin as his friend turns fully around, one hand keeping their dinner balanced in the frying pan, the other brandishing a sauce-coated spatula dangerously close to Lance’s face.

“That-” Hunk emphasizes with a swing of the spatula, “was totally uncalled for! Shay and I are just friends.”

“Sure, whatever makes you feel better, buddy,” Lance quips.

“That’s rich coming from you, Lance,” Hunk says, turning back around, “considering you’re still head over heels for _Keith_.” Lance’s jaw drops, and he begrudgingly feels his face flame red at the lilt in his friend’s voice. “Oh, that’s right,” Hunk continues, “I heard all about your little encounter at work the other day. And I’m very excited to have, how did you say it? ‘Keith and Lance, neck and neck’, at my table tonight.” Lance stutters, appalled by his friend’s forward nature. Unable to come up with a decent comeback, he swings around in pursuit of the traitor lounging in the back room.

“Pidge! I’m gonna kill you!”

***

It’s six forty-five when a knock finally sounds at their door, just as Hunk is finishing setting the table.

“I’ll get it!” Lance says a little to quickly, and ignores the looks he knows his friends are giving him. He takes a deep breath before he gets to the door, fingers closing around the cold metal of the handle. _God, why am I even nervous?_ He thinks to himself, _he’s just coming over for dinner- with Hunk and Pidge, not me_. Lance sighs out, and turns the handle, opening the door to greet their guest, and _oh yeah, that’s why_. Because Keith is there, towering in the doorway, holding a six pack of beer and wearing a tentative smile. Okay, so maybe towering is a bit of an exaggeration, but Lance is still adjusting to the inch of height Keith has on him now, and the problematic side effects it has on his heart rate.

_  
_

“Hey,” Keith says simply, shifting a bit where he stands.

“Hey man,” Lance says cooly, despite the chaos raging beneath his skin, “come on in! You’re right on time for Hunk’s famous cooking.” Lance walks into the apartment and Keith follows him, closing the door behind himself.

“Famous, huh?” Keith hums, “not to spark controversy, but I’ve got pretty high standards when it comes to cooking. Shiro makes a mean _nabemono_.” Lance finds himself wondering who Shiro is: a friend? A roomate? A partner? He stops that train of thought before it goes too far.

“Is that so?” Hunk rounds the corner, carrying the final plate of _carbonara_, “well, I don’t mind a bit of a challenge.” 

“Yeah,” Lance quips, pulling out a chair to sit in, “Hunk’s about to knock your socks off, for real.” Keith looks down at Lance, raising an eyebrow somewhat playfully.

“We’ll see,” he says, before raising up the six pack. “I didn’t know what you guys liked, but I brought drinks. Is beer ok?” Hunk opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by Pidge’s enthusiastic,

“Fuck yeah, it is.”

“Pidge!” Lance exclaims, voice rocketing up a few octaves, “you’re underage! And watch your mouth around our _guest_.”

“You’re underage too, Loverboy,” Pidge leers, “but that hasn’t stopped you before.” Lance rolls his eyes and scoffs at that.

“Loverboy?” Keith asks, raising that stupid eyebrow again.

“Lance’s nickname from high school, between the three of us at least,” Pidge fills him in. “We started calling him that ‘cause he’d bring a new girl to our lunch table like, every week.” Lance feels a slight wave of panic go through him at that, glancing up to gauge Keith’s reaction to Pidge’s explanation. Keith’s face is mostly blank of emotion, save for a small curve of amusement along his lips. Lance has to remind himself that Keith doesn’t remember him. At all. He probably thought Lance was straight already, and he probably doesn’t care if Lance was a notorious flirt in high school. Still, Lance feels obliged to at least try and salvage his reputation in Keith’s presence from where it dangles precariously over the edge. He starts, naturally, with a good natured scoff, not too indignant so he can save face.

“I did _not_ bring a girl every week, Pidge,” he says, “and let’s not forget, I wasn’t the only one ogling them.” He finishes with a pointed look at the younger girl, whose face scrunches up at the implication. Pidge is comfortable enough with her sexuality that Lance knows she doesn’t care if he brings it up around strangers, even Keith. She feigns offense anyways, and lifts an accusatory finger.

“You’d better watch yourself, McClain,” she threatens, “I know where you sleep.”

“Hunk!” Lance whines, “Pidge is bullying me!” The cook merely rolls his eyes, arms crossed and foot tapping in annoyance.

“Both of you sit down and stop ruining dinner,” he says, “you’re gonna scare Keith off.” Keith snorts at that, pulling his chair out to mirror Lance’s before sitting in it. The other three members of the apartment mimic his movement, and dig into the meal. At the first bite, Keith lets out a moan that has Lance nearly choking on his food.

“Ohwmygahd,” Keith says, mouth still half full.

“I know,” says Lance.

“Oh my _god_.”

“I _know_.”

“What the hell did you put in this, Hunk?” The cook merely shrugs in response to Keith’s prodding.

“A true chef never tells.”

“Shiro’s going to lose it when he hears he’s been bested.”

“Speaking of Shiro,” Hunk starts, “how is he these days? Is he…?” Hunk trails off there, and _something_ lingers in the air above the table. It’s clear there is something going unsaid, and Lance finds himself annoyed once again at being left out of the loop, while Hunk somehow knows parts of Keith that Lance was never privileged with. Lance fights down the sensation; it’s not a big deal if Hunk is closer to Keith than he is, even if the feeling in his chest tries to tell him otherwise. Across the table, Keith’s eyebrows knit together a bit, but his smile grows.

“He’s great,” Keith says, and Lance is struck by the sheer amount of warmth in his voice when he responds. All right, that’s it.

“Sorry, who’s Shiro?” he asks, trying not to come off rude, but damn, it feels like he’s back in his accelerated math class, trying to figure out what the hell everyone is talking about. Keith’s gaze shifts over to him, amethyst irises meeting ocean blues.

“Shiro’s my brother,” he provides, “and like I said, he just got engaged. He and his fiance are moving into a bigger place near here, and I wanted to stay a little closer to them. This was the closest building with a room still available.”

“I can’t believe Shiro’s engaged,” Pidge sighs, “my loser brother can’t even get a girlfriend.”

“And Shiro won’t let him forget it,” Keith smirks, “He reminds Matt basically every time he’s around.” Lance promptly drops his fork, gesturing wildly between Pidge and Keith.

“Wait-” he starts, “what- how??” Pidge rolls her eyes at his antics.

“Matt and Shiro were roomates in college. I’m sure Matt’s brought him up before. Do you ever listen?”

“Matt’s roomate was some guy named _Takashi_, not Shiro!”

“His name’s Takashi Shirogane,” Keith interrupts, “Shiro for short.” Lance takes a second for the information to slide and click into place in his mind, before he realizes-

“Wait, so I’m the only one here Keith doesn’t know?!” it comes out fast and incredulous, and Lance realizes at once that he sounds way too upset for the given circumstances. The table is silent for a couple of seconds, Pidge smirking and Hunk looking embarrassed for his friend, before Keith replies.

“I guess we’ll just have to get to know each other now,” he says, looking up through his bangs with a soft smile, and while there’s nothing particularly unique about the statement, Lance can’t stop the jump his pulse makes. And the thing is, _he does_ get to know Keith that night. Over the course of dinner, Keith tells them all about his classes as a mechanical engineering major and his internship at Kolivan’s Tire & Auto Repair. He talks about his mother Krolia, and how Shiro and Adam are opening a bookstore soon, “because they’re eighty years old at heart”.

Four plates of _carbonara_ and a few drinks later, the four are piling onto the sofa to watch _Titanic_. Keith takes the left side of the sofa, and Hunk takes the right, Pidge flying past Lance to glue herself to Hunk’s side and smile devilishly at Lance. The couch is already at maximum capacity, really, and the space between Keith and Pidge looks relatively small, even for Lance’s lithe build. Keith seems to notice Lance’s struggle, and starts to get up, but Lance stops him with a frantic wave of his hand.

“It’s fine man,” he says, “I can fit.” He slides in next to Keith, shimmying until he’s decently settled, if uncomfortable. Keith looks down at him, a small furrow in his brow at Lance’s discomfort

“Here,” he says, and then he’s wrapping an arm around Lance’s waist and tugging him closer until Lance’s shoulder is tucked into Keith’s side, just under his armpit. Lance can’t help it- he can feel Keith’s warmth right against him and feel his heartbeat, not to mention he was basically just manhandled by him, and could feel the muscles hidden in Keith’s sleeves as they pulled him close- he blushes a likely very vibrant red. Keith returns his arm to resting on the couch above and behind Lance’s head, looking a little flustered himself, his gaze pointedly forwards.

“Sorry,” he says, “you looked uncomfortable. Is that better?” Lance nods dumbly, before adding in,

“Y-yeah, it is. Thank you.” Keith smiles a little at that, and nods.

“Alright gays-” _cough_ “-I mean guys,” Pidge says exasperatedly, “let’s get the movie going.” Hunk switches the light off, and Lance resigns himself to spending the next two hours nestled into Keith’s side, fighting off the urge to freak out. It’s hard to get into the movie at first, but by the end, Lance can feel emotion welling up in his throat, despite having seen it a million times.

“_I’ll never let go, Jack_,” Kate Winslet says onscreen, “_I’ll never let go_.” Lance sniffles, reaching up to brush a stray tear. Hunk’s face’s, in contrast, is streaming with tears on the other side of the couch, which makes him feel a little better. He feels Keith shift against him, and glances up to find the dark-haired boy looking at him.

“Are you actually crying?” he asks, amusement bleeding into his tone. Lance gasps dramatically, and hits him lightly in the side.

“Yes? Why aren’t you?”

“It’s just a movie, Lance.” Lance gapes at him, embellishing his performance just a little.

“_Just a movie?!” he cries._

_  
_

“Here we go,” Pidge groans.

“They are in _love_ Keith! Don’t you believe in love?”

“She basically drops him into the ocean.” Lance turns away from Keith, effectively shunning him.

“You’re a heartless monster, Keith Kogane.”

“And you, are a blubbering baby.” Lance’s resounding shriek is drowned out by the end credits music blasting from the speakers. The four get up, and slowly begin to clean up. Keith stays to help Hunk clear the table, and tries to help with dishes before Hunk forces him out the door.

“It was nice seeing you, Keith,” Pidge drawls, “you’ll have to come again!” She looks pointedly at Lance.

“Yeah,” Lance grits out while maintaining eye contact with Pidge, before looking up at Keith, “see you later, man.” Keith nods at that, and does a weird half-salute with his hand before departing, Pidge closing the door behind him.

“Well, I’m exhausted,” Lance says, earning snickers from his friends.

“Yeah,” Hunk says, “it was a long night. But wasn’t it nice to see your high school sweetheart again?” Lance is too tired to shriek again, so he settles for grabbing the nearest placemat and chucking it at his friend with all the force he can muster.

“That’s it,” he announces, “I’m not helping with dishes!”

***

It’s quiet when Lance wakes the next morning, and peaceful. The sheets are deceptively warm around him, and he almost curls back into them before a small tendril of something _wrong_ worms its way into his conscious, and then turns ice cold with realization. Lance’s eyes fly open, and he rolls over with a gasp to read his alarm clock.

6:45am

“Shitshitshitshit-” Lance curses as he scrambles out of bed, a solid fifteen minutes behind schedule. An extra fifteen minutes wouldn’t normally be catastrophic, but his shift starts at seven o’ clock, _sharp_ because Allura is working today, and it’s a ten minute drive to the shop on a good day. Lance wastes no time, rushing around his apartment in a desperate search for his uniform and keys, and haphazardly doing his hair. His hands itch to complete his morning skin routine, but he simply doesn’t have the time. He’s grateful, at least, that Pidge and Hunk already left, lest he get an earful about throwing things around the common area. It’s 6:50 when Lance finally has everything, and he barely remembers to lock up before crashing down the stairs towards the complex’s parking garage. He power walks to his car, yanking open the door and throwing his things inside. He shoves the key into the ignition, ready to get on the road and avoid the hellfire he knows Allura can spit, and turns it. He’s met with an ear splitting groaning sound, and the car stutters beneath him before going silent. Lance makes a small, frustrated noise, before turning the key again. And again. And _again._

“No, no, no!” Lance screams in frustration, slamming his palms onto the steering wheel. “Start, you stupid car!” He tries the key again, hands shaking in frustration and panic, when someone raps on his car window. Lance looks up, startled, to see Keith Kogane standing outside his car, one hand on the roof, bent over to peer into the the front seat. His eyebrows are knit in confusion and what might be concern. Lance pulls on his door handle, and pushes it open, stepping out with one leg to stand at Keith’s level.

“Are you okay?” Keith asks. “You were, ah, screaming.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance replies, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice, “my car just- won’t start. And I’m late for work. God, my boss is going to kill me.” Keith peers around him to look into the car, like that helps him confirm Lance’s statement or something. Lance runs a hand through his hair, and brings his phone out.

“I think I’m just going to find a bus or somethi-”

“Don’t do that,” Keith commands, and then looks embarrassed at the force of his instruction before restarting. “I mean, you don’t have to do that. I’m actually on my way to work right now, but I’m early. I have time to drop you off, if you want.” And Lance should say no. He really, really should, but Keith is _right there_, and willing, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s blurting out a,

“That would be great.”

“Great,” Keith smiles, and sticks a thumb out behind him, “my bike’s just around the corner.” He starts walking away, before Lance registers his words and chases after him.

“Wait, did you say bike?!” And yes, he did in fact hear the mullet correctly. Because around the corner is a bright red Ducati. Lance stops while Keith continues forwards, unlocking the helmet from the bike. He turns when he notices Lance’s absence, smirking at the tan boy.

“What, are you scared or something?” Lance scoffs at that, waltzing up with as much attitude as he can muster, like he and his sisters used to do when they were young.

“In your dreams, mullet.”

“_Mullet?_”

“Yeah,” Lance says, and reaches up to tug at the end of one of Keith’s dark locks despite himself, “you look like you rolled straight out of a 1987 Rolling Stone magazine. Haven’t you ever heard of a hairdresser?”

“I am literally giving you a ride to work right now,” Keith deadpans. “Stop insulting my hair.”

“Fine, you get a free pass this time,” Lance relents, and Keith shoves the helmet into his hand.

“Keith, you need this!” Lance protests, but shuts up as Keith steps into his personal space. They’re only a few inches apart, and Lance is surrounded by that smell that is authentically Keith, the one he spent last night practically bathing in.

“You’re running late, aren’t you?” Keith asks, and Lance nods. “We don’t have time to argue, then. You’re my passenger, and I say you have to wear a helmet.” He takes the helmet from Lance and slides it onto the boy’s head, then buckles the strap beneath his chin and tightens it, fingers brushing against the skin of Lance’s throat.

“It’ll be fine,” Keith says more quietly, “I’m a safe driver. When do you need to be at work?”

“Seven,” Lance responds, and Keith nods with a smile.

“So we have six minutes. I’ll have you there in four,” he promises, and turns around, mounting the bike.

“That’s literally the opposite of being a safe driver,” Lance says, but climbs on behind him anyways. He hesitates, hands raised up at chest height for a moment, before loosely wrapping them around Keith’s waist, clasping his hands together. Keith seems to look back at him, though Lance can’t really tell, before speaking.

“Not quite,” he says. “Here.” And then his hands, warm and covered by rough fingerless gloves, wrap around Lance’s own , and pull them tighter, so that Lance is clasping his own forearms, chest pressed flush against Keith’s back. A thrill goes up Lance’s spine at the intimacy of the position, and he does his best to push it down, scared that Keith can feel the pounding of his heart where it lays caged against the older boy’s shoulder blade. The warmth of Keith’s hands leaves momentarily, before Lance feels something wrap around his right hand, encapsulating it before squeezing it lightly. Lance’s breath catches at the act of reassurance, before the heat is pulled away entirely.

“Hold on,” Keith orders, and the engine starts up underneath them, Lance curling closer into Keith at the deafening noise. Then Keith is pushing up the kickstand, and the two pull off into the chilly morning air.

It’s 6:59am when Keith’s Ducati pulls into the parking lot of Altea Coffee. Keith kills the engine and steps off the bike, turning around to help Lance up, whose legs have basically turned to jelly. He keeps a hand on the underside of Lance’s elbow as the boy yanks his helmet off, one hand habitually coming up to run his fingers through his hair. Lance is practically buzzing from the adrenaline rush, his cheeks flushed pink and limbs trembling from the temperature, as well as the jarring vibrations of the motorcycle.

“You good?” Keith asks in a breathy sort of laugh. Lance nods with his own breathless chuckle, and hands the helmet back.

“Yeah,” Lance replies, and raises his watch. “_Although_, it is 6:59. That’s five minutes, not my promised four, Kogane.”

“I think we can sum that up to your behavior in the parking garage.”

“Ah-ah-ah!” Lance emphasizes this with a wag of his finger, “No excuses!” Keith rolls his eyes in response.

“I’ll do better next time?”

“There we go,” Lance nods, ignoring the voice screaming _next time??_ in his head. “Well, I’d better get going…” he starts, but is interrupted by a phone being shoved under his nose. He looks up questioningly at Keith, whose eyebrows are furrowed and mouth is skewed in determination of some sort. It’s way more attractive than it should be.

“Your number,” Keith says simply, and Lance blanches.

“W-what?” he stutters.

“I need your phone number,” Keith clarifies, “so you can tell me when you get off. I’ll come pick you up.” Lance swoons internally. The Keith he knew in high school was all rough edges, cocky smirks and biting challenges, but this Keith is different. He doesn’t know when, or how, but somewhere in those two years Keith’s become exceptionally caring on top of everything else, which Lance decides is perpetually unfair.

“You don’t-”

“Lance. Come on,” Keith says, voice warm, and he shakes the phone again until Lance begrudgingly accepts it, punching ten digits into the device before handing it back to the boy.

“Thank you,” Lance says, and Keith nods.

“You’d better get going,” Keith says and juts his chin out, looking at something over Lance’s shoulder. “I think that’s your boss.” Lance peeks over his shoulder, and sure enough, Allura and Lotor are plastered side by side against the glass, Allura beaming and Lotor wearing a smirk as they no doubt collect all the dirt they can on Lance.

“Dios,” Lance curses, raising a hand to his eyes, “yeah, that’s her. I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later then?”

“Yeah,” Keith smiles, “Have a good shift.”

“You too.” Keith nods again, and turns to walk towards his bike. Lance spins on his heel towards his inevitable demise at the hands of his coworkers, pointedly avoiding his coworkers as he crosses the threshold into the building.

“Lancee,” Allura sing-songs, “you simply _must_ tell me who your new friend is.” Lance’s phone lights up with a ping before he can retaliate, shining up onto his face.

_Unknown Number_

_Hey Loverboy - Mullet_

Lance glances back just in time to see Keith’s motorbike pull out of the lot with a roar, a dangerous flash of red and black metal.

“No one,” Lance replies, gazing out the window with a thoughtful look on his face, “just someone I used to know.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally pushing this update out! Honestly my chapter length is really inconsistent and I don't think that'll change so sorry in advance, this is a long one! I'm working through finals the next couple of week, so I'll try to get the next chapter out asap but it might be a bit. With that being said, enjoy!

Keith drives Lance to work every day for the next week or so while his car is in the shop. Lance had taken his car, lovingly called “Blue”, to Kolivan’s Tire & Auto Repair after Keith promised him a first time discount.

“Don’t worry,” Keith had said coyly, “I’ll take good care of her.” And really, that was all the convincing Lance needed. To make matters worse, Keith was refusing any kind of payment on Lance’s part, smacking gas money to the ground once when Lance took to trying to shove it down his shirt, a trick he’d learned growing up with older siblings. It didn’t make sense: Lance lived just off campus, there was no reason he shouldn’t deal with waking up a little earlier and walking to work, or paying for a bus pass. Despite that, he simply couldn’t ward off Keith’s ever persisting kindness, when he fixed Lance with that intense look of his and insisted that the roads weren’t safe enough to walk alone that early, and that it was simply easier this way.

“We’re saving the planet, too,” Keith had pointed out after one of Lance’s protests, “cutting down exhaust fumes and shit.” The two had reached a truce after Keith agreed to accept lunches from Lance, which the Cuban woke himself up at 6:15am every morning to manufacture. The first day Lance sauntered up to Keith’s motorbike, brown paper bag resting in the curve of his arm, Keith had been skeptical.

“Come on Keith,” Lance had whined, batting his eyelashes, “you’re a growing boy! You need Lancey’s handmade lunches for all that hard work you’re going to be doing.”

“Fixing cars isn’t that hard, Lance,” Keith had replied, and Lance barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes at that. What a prick. Still, Keith had eventually accepted the lunch, stuffing it into the pocket of his jacket, and it had become an integral part of their routine. After that first day, Lance started adding notes into the lunches. It was something he would have done for any one of his friends, but it felt riskier doing it for Keith, like he was toeing some invisible line, seeing how close he could get without crossing over. Keith never mentioned the notes either way, and so Lance kept them up, leaving well wishes and encouraging comments in each bag.

Of course, their shifts didn’t always match up perfectly. A couple of times Keith was unable to transport Lance, and Lance always received a text on those days, the mullet asking if Lance had made it to work in one piece. It was a sweet sentiment, bordering on boyfriend behavior if Lance was being honest, but Lance pushed that from the forefront of his mind. It was nice getting to know Keith without any romantic pressure. The two had a lot in common, and banter felt easy between them. There was still some of that competitive spark Lance remembered, but it was warmer now, and lacked its sharp bite. Keith also took to visiting Lance at work on days he could. Lance always overanalyzed those interactions afterwards, paranoid his coworkers would give away his true feelings to Keith in their quest to tease him. Whenever the raven-haired boy approached the register, propping his elbow up and leaning in more than was probably socially acceptable, Pidge, Allura, or on one occasion Lotor, would walk by to drop a suggestive comment or wink. Despite Lance’s mortification, Keith never seemed to react to any of these encounters, and so Lance behaved accordingly, ignoring his coworker’s schemes.

Keith came over to their apartment a few more times as well, staying for dinner or simply stopping by to talk to one of the three. Most recently, the boy had stopped in to return one of Hunk’s various baking pans at the same time Matt happened to be invading the apartment. Pidge’s older brother had been ecstatic at the mullet’s arrival, swinging his arm around his shoulders in a show of comradery.

“Keith! Perfect timing!” he’d exclaimed. “I was just telling these guys about the party I’m throwing this weekend after the game. You’ve _gotta_ come.” Matt lived in a sizeable house on the campus border, with about ten other guys. It was basically a fraternity, Lance thought, just without the freshmen and idiotic hazing rituals. Keith looked somewhat uncomfortable, carefully removing Matt’s arm from around his shoulders.

“Parties aren’t really my… _thing_,” he’d offered weakly, a poor defense, Lance knew, against Matt’s boisterous personality. Matt had made a dismissive noise at that, sauntering across the room to sit on the countertop near his sister.

“Trust me,” he’d said, “this party is going to beat any party you’ve ever been to.” And, okay, Lance had known with one-hundred percent certainty that was a lie, however much Matt may have believed it. Matt’s parties were standard as far as college parties went- stock full of cheap alcohol, shitty rap remixes and floors sticky with the remains of spilled drinks -yet he couldn’t help the sinking feeling which accompanied the thought of Keith being absent at the event. Keith had let out a sigh where he stood, eyes shifting around the room.

“You’re all going?” he’d asked, eyes catching Lance’s briefly before skipping back towards where the Holts were perched.

“Unfortunately,” Pidge had chirped in response, arms crossed against her chest. Keith nodded at that, turning to look at Matt.

“Alright,” he’d conceded, surprisingly quickly in Lance’s opinion, “I’ll be there.”

“Yes!” Matt had exclaimed, pumping his fist up into the air, “Keith Kogane is coming to my party!” Keith huffed, rolling his eyes, and Lance felt himself split into a grin.

***

Lance can feel the energy in the air across campus, sharp and electric to the touch. Altea University overthrew their sworn rivals, Galra State, in the last five minutes of the game, and the the student body was absolutely enthralled. Everywhere Lance had looked, girls and boys were decked out in blue and gold, the school colors, and cheering or jumping onto one another. The streets were swarmed for hours afterwards, but now they maintained a relatively normal flow, and it seemed as though the entire population was waiting with bated breath for what the night would surely bring.

It’s silent in Lance’s room now, where he stands staring at himself in the mirror attached to the back of his door. He’s wearing his third outfit of the night, after two unsuccessful trials. After much debate, he dons tight and dark jeans, along with a simple grey sweater which accentuates the lines of his body just so. He’s gone out of his way to accessorize as well tonight, donning his nice converse, and sliding a silver wave ring onto his index finger. He frushes his hands through his hair once more, tilting his head and contemplating pulling out his makeup when his cheeks lack their usual glow. He knows he’s overthinking, but he can’t help it. There’s no reason he should be freaking out this much, but despite absolutely nothing warranting the feeling, the thought of seeing Keith tonight is sending him into a bit of a frenzy. He wants to look good for his hotheaded neighbor, and he hates himself for it a little. Because he knows he’s getting his hopes up, and he’ll have to face the repercussions when Keith doesn’t give what his heart is so foolishly desiring. He sighs, running his hand through his hair again, frowning when he only ends up messing up the ends of it.

It’s going to be an interesting night.

***

The Uber pulls up to the house, and Lance can hear the bass booming through the glass of the car window he’s pressed into. He, Hunk, and Pidge all pile out, observing the scene. A few clusters of people hang around the porch, and a couple more loiter in the yard, but bulk of the mass is packed into the house, as expected. Lance adjusts the collar of his sweater, getting into his groove a little. His mama used to say he was a social butterfly, and he thinks maybe he can stop fixating on a certain someone for a bit if he just taps into that extraverted part of himself.

“Hey.” Lance whips around with a gasp, which he quickly tries to play off as a cough, at the greeting. And of course- _of course_, Keith is standing there, looking at the group with thinly veiled pleasure. Lance feels himself choke up a little when he looks down, and fights a blush as well as he can, because Keith always looks good, but he cleans up _fantastic_. He’s wearing a deep red bomber jacker, paired with a plain white t-shirt, and black jeans and shoes. He’s done something to his hair too- it’s less unkempt than usual, swept back slightly so that Lance can see some of his forehead, which should _not_ be as appealing as it is. Lance has to physically fight the urge to reach up and cup his hand over the expanse of skin there, and run it through midnight bangs. Keith’s eyes meet Lance’s then, deep amethyst and intense and expectant even in the dark.

“I- uh, hey,” Lance stutters out, barely maintaining composure. The left side of Keith’s lips curl at that, twitching up closer to his eyes.

“Keith!” Hunk exclaims. “You made it!”

“I did say I’d come,” Keith points out.

“Yeah, Hunk,” Pidge snarks, “have some faith.”

“Sorry Pidge, I guess being friends with you got me used to people flaking,” Hunk quips, and Lance barks out a laugh, cut off when Pidge slams a fist into his side.

“Ouch!” Lance cries, curling over dramatically, “Hunk, Pidge hit me!”

“Oh Lance, you’ll be fine,” Hunk chuckles, the bastard content having deflected Pidge’s wrath. Lance lets out a whine at that, turning to the raven haired man instead.

“Keithhh,” he whines instead, “you’re really just going to let her bully me like that??” Keith turns to face him fully, contemplating.

“I guess not,” he concedes with a shrug, and promptly reaches across to flick Pidge in the back of the head with a solid _thunk_. Pidge exclaims in irritation, clasping her hands over the offended area, and Lance rights himself at once, stepping forwards to wrap his hands around Keith’s bicep, leaning in.

“My hero!” he pretends to swoon, letting some weight fall onto the boy’s shoulder, and fluttering his eyes shut. Rather than the bout of laughter he expected in response, the air remains mostly silent aside from the music booming in the background. Lance opens his eyes to investigate the cause, and in turn is met with skin flushed pink right in front of his eyes. Lance realizes at once his mistake- his close proximity to Keith, practically pressed into the boy, his chin tilted up just under the other’s jaw. He jerks back at once, stumbling back a few steps in panic.

“Sorry!” He exclaims. “Sorry, geez. I have an issue with personal space sometimes, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Keith just looks at him, hand coming up to ghost over where Lance’s hands had previously gripped him. 

“It’s fine,” he says slowly, and then more surely, “just surprised me is all.” He finishes with a nod, and starts up the driveway towards the doorway. Lance watches him go, enduring a forceful nudge from Pidge.

“Nice going, Loverboy,” she drawls, before following Keith up the driveway, tugging Hunk along. Lance sighs, trying to settle his nerves, before following the group.

It takes quite a lot of effort to cram the four of them through the doorway, and into the dense crowd in the front hallway. The air is hot and heavy, thick passing through Lance’s throat. The lighting is a deep blue, almost purple, and Lance has to squint a little to keep track of Pidge’s blonde head bouncing through the sea of people. Finally they reach a bit of a clearing, and huddle together.

“I’m going to find Matt,” Pidge practically has to scream over the crescendo of voices. Lance nods, having expected that. As the girl dips out to disappear into the crowd, Lance’s eye catches on the flash of a familiar set of hoops across the room.

“Hunk!” he exclaims, jutting an elbow into his friend’s side, “I can see Shay!”

“What?!” Hunk exclaims, immediately straightening his spine and running his hands through his hair.

“Right over there,” Lance nods his head in the girls direction, and he can see the moment Hunk finds her in the crowd and starts panicking.

“Oh god,” the cook groans, “what do I do? Should I go over and say hi? No, that would come off too desperate. Maybe I should just ignore her? But-”

“Hunk, honey,” Lance cuts him off, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “you’re overthinking. You’ve got this! You and Shay are great friends, you can do this. Just go over there and say hello.” Hunk nods in response, steeling his nerves and taking a deep breath.

“Okay, okay alright,” he says, “Thanks, Lance.”

“Anytime, buddy,” Lance grins, and slaps Hunk on the back as he departs. In his absence, Lance realizes it’s just down to him and Keith now. _Okay_, he thinks, _don’t blow this, McClain_.

“So, Keith,” he starts, “first college party?” Keith raises an eyebrow at him, arms folded across his chest.

“Even if it was, I wouldn’t tell you,” Keith responds flatly, and Lance splits into a grin.

“I think that’s a yes,” he says, stepping closer, poking a finger into Keith’s sternum.

“It’s not.”

“I think it is!” Lance snarks, “Keithy-boy’s first college party! Are you nervous?”

“You’re insufferable,” Keith says, but his lip twitches, betraying his amusement.

“It’s okay, Keith,” Lance says, patting his shoulder sympathetically, “I’ll be here to show you the ropes. Starting… with getting us drinks!” Keith shakes his head and rolls his eyes at that.

“Whatever you say,” he says, “I’ll just… stay here I guess?”

“Yep!” Lance chirps, “And I will be back pronto! Don’t go anywhere!” Keith furrows his brow with an incredulous look and raises his hand in a way that screams _where would I go_?? Ah, to be an introvert. Lance spins on his heel, and slides into the crowd. It’s packed full of kids, some of whom Lance recognizes from classes. He waves at most, stopping briefly to greet a group from his economics course, but he doesn’t dally for long- he’s on a mission after all. The room somehow manages to get sweatier the closer Lance gets to the drinks table, and he finds it harder to pick up his feet as the alcohol coating the floor becomes thicker and clings to the soles more. The only improvement is he’s moving farther away from the music, and he can sort of hear himself think now. Finally, he stumbles upon the drinks table, covered in various bottles, cheap beer cans, and innumerable red cups laying crushed or prone on their sides across the surface. He examines the options, and steps closer to pour two cups half full with the liquid. He’s turning back, ready to return to Keith, when a voice catches his attention.

“Lance?” He flinches automatically, slowly turning towards the sound and praying he’s inhaled some drug and is merely hallucinating. But no, of course that’s not the case, and his ex-boyfriend’s figure greets him, hovering near his own. Lance clears his throat, and tries to fix his voice into something polite.

“Rolo,” he replies, and offers a tight smile. The man steps closer, smiling widely.

“Long time no see,” Rolo drawls, leaning in, “how’ve you been?” His words slur just a little, and with the proximity Lance can practically taste the vodka on his breath.

“Fine,” Lance says curtly, “I’ve been fine. You?” He asks, after a moment.

“I’ve been great,” Rolo says, and then his gaze goes unfocused, and he reaches a hand up to brush a stray hair away from Lance’s cheek, causing the tan boy to flinch back slightly.

“Been thinking about you,” Rolo continues, trailing his hand down to grip Lance’s shoulder. Lance feels his heart rate spike in discomfort, and he sets his own drink down to free his hand, forcefully removing Rolo’s touch.

“Come on Rolo,” he says, glancing about nervously, “we’re not doing this right now. You dumped me, remember? You made your choice.”

“I made a mistake, Lance,” Rolo pleads, “We had something really good! We could have that again. Or… just tonight,” he adds, “I’m not picky.” Lance feels his nose scrunch up at the implication.

“Yeah, no thanks,” he says, voice harder now, “Even if I was going to have a one-night stand tonight, it would never be with you.” Lance starts to turn, but before he can he feels a pressure wrap around his wrist and yank him backwards.

“I know you still want me, Lance,” Rolo growls, breath hot and heavy across Lance’s face now, “You really think anyone else is here is going to want you? Face it, it’s me or no one.” He lowers his voice, pressing closer, “Come on. I’ll take good care of you…”.

“I’ll take no one,” Lance bites back, and yanks his wrist, peeved when Rolo’s grip doesn’t loosen. “Let me go,” he orders.

“Or what?” Rolo asks, voice low and dangerous, eyes glassy with lust and alcohol. Lance’s throat tightens, and he opens his mouth to respond.

“Or I’ll _make_ you.” Rolo’s eyes widen in surprise, but the words don’t come from Lance. The pair glances to the left, and Lance’s heart slams louder in his chest when he sees Keith standing there, hands balled into fists at his sides, eyes narrowed and dark. Rolo scoffs at the threat, standing taller from where he’d been bent over Lance.

“And who are you?” He asks disbelievingly. Keith’s eyebrow twitches.

“I’m the guy who’s going to kick your ass if you don’t leave my friend alone.” Lance searches Keith’s gaze, but the raven-haired boy won’t meet his stare, completely focused on Rolo. Lance glances back up at Rolo, who’s studying him calculatingly. He seems to find something in his gaze, and his features tighten.

“Fine,” he snarls, and shoves Lance back, releasing his wrist. Lance stumbles back a little at the force, recovering in time to watch Rolo turn tail and stalk off. Keith looks- well, furious, staring after Rolo and looking two seconds away from pursuing the other man- so Lance doesn’t waste time, stepping to his side and placing a hand on his arm. Keith breaks out of his trance at that, head whipping around to evaluate Lance, eyes scanning up and down his body. If the circumstances were different, Lance would probably have combusted at the action, but anger still riddles the creases in Keith’s face, so he offers a small smile instead. Keith shifts, a hand coming up near Lance’s face before flinching lower, hovering in the air before coming to rest on the underside of his elbow, supporting him as though Lance had just gotten off his bike for the first time. Lance can tell he’s curious, his eyes burn with questions, but he appears to hold himself back.

“Are you okay?” he asks instead, voice deceptively opaque. Lance nods, but responds when Keith’s eyebrows press closer together in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he breathes out. He feels heat rising along the crest of his jawline, around the edge of his ears and seeping lightly into his cheeks at the blatant attention, and somewhat from embarrassment. “Thank you,” he continues, averting his eyes. The hand around his elbow tightens momentarily, before carefully loosening. Lance lets out a shaky breath at the small, almost undetectable form of reassurance, trying to push down the emotion rising in him, begging for more.

“Of course,” Keith says, voice impossibly raw. Lance glances up at that, meeting Keith’s gaze. He’s still angry, Lance can see that, embers burning bright even in the low light, teeth grit, jaw clenched, but there’s something else there, too. Something softer concealed within the twisting rays of his irises, something indiscernible. For a moment, Lance isn’t in Matt’s house anymore, he’s in the alleyway behind the Garrison, skin damp with rain, staring into the shattered eyes of a boy. He was smaller then, Lance thinks, lacking his scar but sporting a bruised cheek anyways, fists clenched at his sides and smeared with blood. His uniform is disheveled, rucked up around his neck from the tussle, stained with mud. Lance remembers the urge to step back, but fights it, and keeps his feet planted.

“Lance?” the boy asks, and Lance feels his brow furrow at that, at the wrongness of it, as though something unpleasant has settled on his tongue. This isn’t right, he realizes, something is off.

“Lance?” the boy asks again, and Lance gasps as he’s jerked back into the present, shuddering as an arm wraps around his back, holding him steady.

“Lance, are you with me?” the voice comes again, and Lance snaps his head up so quickly he gets whiplash, to meet Keith’s gaze, now infinitely more concerned than before. Their noses are mere centimeters apart, and Lance closes his eyes, getting his bearings.

“Yeah,” he says, voice raw from the intensity of the memory, “yeah, I’m fine, sorry. Just zoned out there for a second.” He feels it when Keith puffs out a breath, warm across his own lips.

“Here,” Keith says, “let’s go somewhere else.” Lance doesn’t know what to say, so he nods dumbly, reaching back to grab the drink he left on the table. Keith guides him back through the crowd, hand lingering between Lance’s shoulderblades, and the touch, though light, feels searing against his back. They move towards the back of the house now, Keith casting glances behind the pair as though Rolo is going to appear again. Eventually they settle in an empty corner, where the music is less intense, and Lance can breathe a little better. He slumps against the wall and takes a slow drink, Keith observing him quietly.

“Better?” Keith asks once he’s lowered the cup.

“Yeah,” Lance sighs out, the shudder in his hands having dulled some. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting him to be here…”

“Lance,” Keith says, and his voice is hard, “don’t apologize to me. That guy was being a creep. It wasn’t your fault.” Lance searches Keith’s gaze, and finding only honestly, nods, looking to his feet.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Keith starts slowly, “who was he? It seemed like you two knew each other.” Lance looks up to meet Keith’s gaze as the boy continues, “Does he bother you a lot?”

“Oh,” Lance replies with a humorless huff, “that’s my ex-boyfriend, Rolo.” He says, and most definitely imagines the way Keith’s gaze lights up with interest, brows shifting closer. “He doesn’t usually bug me, but he’s definitely drunk and horny right now, so…” Lance trails off, shrugging. Keith makes a weird coughing noise at that, shifting.

“What?” Lance asks.

“Nothing,” Keith responds, and _dios_, he’s a terrible liar.

“No, what is it?” he asks, incredulous and amused.

“I just didn’t know… I thought you were straight,” he says, and then his eyes widen, “which is fine! By the way, it’s fine. I’m, uh, gay myself so.” Lance has to restrain himself from laughing at the other’s obvious distress, and waves him off with a hand.

“I’m bisexual,” he says to Keith, smiling, “so, I like girls, boys, and assholes like Rolo, apparently.” Keith’s expression softens a little, and he takes a drink from his cup.

“Good to know,” he says, and Lance thanks Matt for the shitty lighting because he definitely feels himself flush. The two don’t leave the corner all night, besides to get more drinks, which Keith insists they do together. Several cups later, Lance can feel the alcohol buzzing in his veins, and he can practically see it reflected in Keith’s eyes. The two are sitting against the wall now as Keith tells Lance all about his dog.

“He’s gonna tell me his name someday,” the boy says, waving his cup in the air for emphasis. Lance is wheezing in laughter, head between his knees as tears threaten to escape him.

“It’s- hah- he’s a _dog_, Keith,” Lance laughs, “he’s not gonna talk to you!”

“Just wait,” Keith says, “‘mma prove you wrong, Lance.” Lance laughs again, rocking back to rest his head against the wall. When he turns his head, Keith is looking at him.

“Did we really meet in high school?” he asks, and Lance is surprised to find he sounds completely sober. He swallows thickly, and turns away, downing the rest of his drink.

“Yeah,” he starts with a sigh, “but we didn’t really talk. We had some classes together, and I was always competing with you, trying to get higher marks. We only… we only really talked once. It’s not a big deal you don’t remember.” He startles when a hand wraps around his chin, turning his face to meet violet eyes. Keith is leaning into his space, hand shifting to cup his jawline more. Lance’s breath catches in his throat, and his heart hammers against it’s cage, beat ricocheting around his head.

“Yes,” Keith says, “yes it is.” When he doesn’t pull away, Lance feels brave, and leans into the touch against his cheek. Keith’s eyes track the movement, and his eyebrows crease once more. He’s beautiful in this light, Lance thinks, the blues and purples glancing off of his cheekbones attractively, shadows emphasizing his contrasting features.

“I don’t know how I forgot someone like you,” Keith says, and Lance’s face heats up in anticipation. _Kiss me_, he thinks. Keith studies his face, tracing along the bridge of his nose, and falling downwards. Lance’s eyes flutter closed.

“Hey losers.”

Lance’s eyes snap open, and Keith isn’t in his space anymore, instead glaring upwards, head turned away from him. Lance blinks, trying to clear the fog from his mind.

“I think that’s enough alcohol for the two of you,” the voice comes again, and Lance startles when something wraps around his arm and tugs upwards. He follows it blindly, stumbling to his feet before something secures around his waist. _Pidge_, his mind fills in. He lifts his head in time to see Hunk pulling Keith up, despite looking worse for wear himself.

“Okay,” Pidge says, “as resident sober-person, I’m going to find my idiot brother and call us an Uber. He’s literally going to kill himself with alcohol if he stays here any longer. Oh, and Keith, I called Shiro to come pick you up like you asked me to.” Keith pouts- actually pouts at that- and leans into Hunk’s half embrace.

“I wasn’t done,” he whines, and Lance hadn’t thought he was really that drunk. Pidge merely huffs, shaking her head.

“You can finish another time, pal,” she says, unsympathetic, and turns to Lance. “Can you stand?” she asks, and Lance nods affirmatively.

“Great,” she says, releasing him, “I’m going to find Matt. You three idiots don’t pull any shit until I’m back, you get me?” Hunk, Lance, and Keith merely bob their heads in unison. Five minutes later, five bodies stumble out through the front door.

“Katie- _hic_ -I’m fine!” Matt complains, trying to twist out of his sister’s grip unsuccessfully. Pidge merely growls at that, practically dragging her brother along over her shoulders.

“Jesus,” she snaps, “do I have to do everything??” Suddenly a horn goes off, honking twice from the side of the street. A man steps out of the car, and Lance recognizes him as the man with the scar he saw Keith with at the coffee shop. _Shiro_, his mind supplies. The man leaves his car door open, jogging up to take a hold of Keith’s elbow, like Keith had done for Lance many times. Lance wonders if that’s where Keith learned the action from.

“Hey, Keith,” the man says, sounding amused. Keith merely grimaces at him, still looking peeved.

“Shiro,” is all he says back. Shiro chuckles and shakes his head, wrapping Keith’s arm around his shoulders. “Thanks for calling me, Pidge,” Shiro says, gaze flitting over the other three figures briefly before returning to the smallest.

“No problem,” Pidge says, “I’ve gotta get these idiots home now, though.” Shiro nods, already starting to pull away with Keith.

“Best of luck then,” Shiro says, leading Keith down the driveway just as Pidge announces their Uber is arriving. Lance watches as the pair goes, Shiro helping Keith to settle in the front seat. Keith catches Lance’s gaze for a moment then, between Shiro’s body and the door, and Lance is surprised by the sheer amount of determination he finds in it. Then, Shiro closes the door and Lance can’t see him anymore. He waves blindly at the car as it shifts into gear and pulls out, disappearing around the first bend.

Almost perfectly timed, another unfamiliar vehicle veers up to the house, and Pidge stalks towards it, towing Matt. The five climb in, and Lance ends up pressed into the window once more, but he doesn’t mind it, forehead flat against the cool glass. He watches the scenery outside pass, eyelids growing heavier and heavier, until he succumbs to the welcoming embrace of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm high key Pidge with my friends at parties. Drop a kudos if you hate the ending of this chapter as much as I do lol.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels like I have been working on this chapter forever- I'm so sorry it's taken this long! I actually cut this chapter in half, so there will now be six total! I hope to have the next one out in a more timely manner, but for now, please enjoy!

Thunder booms across the sky, shaking Lance to his core as he stumbles out under the rolling grey clouds. Cold rain comes down on his shoulders, already beginning to bleed through the thin fabric of his white button-down, and the air around him is blanketed in darkness due to the late hour. He hurries forwards around the building, slipping in the mud a couple of times as he stumbles to where he knows the bus stop lies on the other side of the Garrison. He’s just come out of the Honor Society meeting, and he’s running late thanks to his classmate’s antics. He’s jogging around the back of the building, small metal bus sign finally visible in the distance, when he hears it. It’s faint, but distinct..

Someone’s crying.

Lance stops on instinct, freezing to better listen to the noise. It’s almost indiscernible over the pattering of rain and the roaring sky, but he can tell it’s definitely there. He groans internally when he watches the bus pull around the corner, off in the distance. He can still make it if he runs. Another sniffle comes from somewhere behind him. Lance sighs, and turns around. He walks cautiously back towards the alleyway he’s passed, shirt officially soaked through. When he rounds the corner, he’s surprised to find the dark area completely empty. He takes a few steps forward, peering around to see if he’s missing something.

“H-hello?” he calls out, the only response a slight echo of his own voice. He’s about to turn around to look somewhere else, when something grabs the front of his shirt, and yanks him sideways. He barely has time to cry out before he’s slammed forcefully into the school’s brick wall, head smacking painfully against the surface. He feels panic claw its way up his throat immediately, hands coming up to wrap around the wrists of whoever is holding him.

“W-wait,” he gasps out frantically, “please don’t hurt me! I just-”

“Who are you?!” the person in front of him growls, and Lance goes stiff, because he knows that voice. It’s Keith Kogane, Garrison prodigy-turned-bad-boy, and Lance’s definitely not boy-crush-slash-rival. And he sounds like he’s about to kick the shit out of Lance.

“I don’t want trouble,” Lance says, hoping it’ll calm Kogane down, “I was just heading to the bus, and I- and I heard you… crying?” The fists tighten in his shirt and Lance whimpers as he’s pressed more firmly into the wall.

“Sounds like you were imagining things, then,” Kogane bites, and releases Lance suddenly, the boy barely catching himself against the wall. Lance sighs in relief, hands coming up to try and smooth the wrinkles Kogane left. His eyes are adjusting more properly now, and he can make out more of Kogane’s features in the dark. Namely, the blood coating his fists, and smeared on his cheek. Lance’s heartbeat spikes in fear, and he swallows thickly. Kogane’s eyes narrow at him when Lance doesn’t immediately leave, and he juts his head towards the exit harshly.

“Get lost,” he orders. Lance wants to, he wants to be somewhere not soaking and shivering in the cold with Kogane and his bloody fists, but something makes him stand his ground.

“Who did you think I was?” he asks instead. Kogane’s features tighten in obvious irritation.

“It doesn’t matter who I thought you were,” he snaps, “there are kids around here who would jump at the opportunity to take advantage of someone dressed like you. Get. Lost.” Lance openly gapes, mostly at the insult to his outfit, dark jeans, white button-down, and borrowed brown loafers. He barely stops himself from going of on that tangent, because _dios_, he could unleash wrath that would best even Rachel and Veronica’s biggest tantrums on Kogane right now, and asks a more constructive, if uncharacteristic question, instead.

“But not you, right?” Kogane clenches his jaw, glaring across at Lance. Lance takes the silence as a victory, taking a couple of cautious steps closer.

“I missed my bus,” he says slowly, carding fingers through his damp hair. “So I guess I’ve got to wait here until the next one comes. It’d be a shame if someone was to ‘take advantage’ of me while I was all alone out here.”

“I’m not going to be your body gaurd,” Kogane snaps, “you made the decision to mess with me instead of going to your bus. Not my fault.”

“Come on, Kogane,” Lance says, and jolts when Keith turns fast as anything to face him, and stalk forwards. He stumbles back a few steps at the action.

“How do you know who I am?” Keith shouts, grabbing Lance’s shoulder painfully, “Are you one of James’s goddamn lackeys?”

“No, no!” Lance stammers, “we have Chemistry together. Th-the class I mean!” He clarifies, and _seriously, McClain? Now is not the time to be blushing_. Kogane stares at Lance intently, like Lance is a puzzle he’s trying to figure out.

“I’m worried about you,” Lance breathes, shocking himself with the confession, “Everyone keeps talking about you, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doing.” His eyes flick to Kogane’s fist and back to his eyes lightning fast.

“Did something happen?” he asks, voice small. Kogane trembles before him now, and Lance can’t tell if he’s hysterical or furious.

“_That_,” Kogane bites out, voice raw and gravelly, “is none of your _damn business. I don’t even know who you are_.” The grip on Lance’s shoulder tightens, and Lance lets out an involuntary yelp, arm burning under the assault. Kogane’s eyes widen a fraction and he steps back, releasing his hold.

“Sorry,” Keith says, voice softer now as he turns away, “I- I just don’t understand why you even care.” Lance takes a deep breath, massaging the offended area on his arm. 

“Honestly,” Lance starts, “I’m not sure why myself. I just- I can tell you’re hurting, Keith. I don’t know what happened, and I know I don’t have a right to. I-I, look, I’m a bit of a nobody around here, so no one would believe me. You know, if you wanted someone to talk to. Or just, someone to listen?” He paused, taking a deep breath. Keith doesn’t turn towards him, but Lance sees him shift.

“You don’t know a thing about me,” the boy says, and Lance takes a cautious step forwards, remembering the sniffling he’d heard earlier. He remembers the boy he’d admired for years, soaring gracefully above his classmates, demeanor stoic and yet calm. He remembers watching him when he would crack a rare smile, swept up in a moment of adrenaline or emotion, features brightened with childish glee if only for a beat.

“I know one thing,” he says slowly, “I know you aren’t a bad person. I’ve been around you long enough to know that.” Kogane doesn’t respond, and Lance holds his breath in the silence, shivering in anticipation and cold. And then, Kogane turns and stalks towards him, pace sure, and Lance feels his adrenaline spike, hands coming up in a show of surrender against his chest.

And Kogane walks past him.

Lance blanches for a moment, before hastily gathering himself before turning around and stumbling after Kogane with a,

“Hey! Wait up!” He trails the boy until they stop under the crooked metal sign marking the bus stop. Lance braces his hands on his knees once they pause, winded by Kogane’s quick pace.

“Geez,” he pants, “would it have killed you to slow down?”

“I’ll stay with you until your bus comes,” Kogane says, ignoring the question entirely, but Lance can’t be bothered to care.

“Oh,” he says, “I was just teasing, you don’t really-” Kogane silences him with a pointed glare. The two stand in silence for a while then, and Lance rocks on his heels as it stretches uncomfortably long. He’s trying to think of a conversation topic, when Keith surprises him and breaks the quiet.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he says, “but I’m-” he cuts off, looking down at his feet, obviously struggling for words, “It’s just family issues. I’m waiting for someone to come back.”

“Oh,” Lance says, because it’s all he can. The information is vague and he doesn’t quite understand, but he’s pleased with the small step forward. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“No,” Keith says, sharp, “I just-,” he sighs, cutting off, “I’m not who they say I am. What you’ve heard.” He still doesn’t look at Lance, and Lance shuffles forwards slightly.

“I know,” Lance says softly.

“I don’t mean to get into the fights. But after the first one- they just kept coming,” he says, “It’s instinct now.” Lance feels his brows press together in sympathy, because he knew it. Whenever kids whispered about the “notorious Keith Kogane” in classes, he knew they were wrong, that there was something else to the story.

“You don’t have to fight them, Keith,” he says, and Kogane finally turns to look at him, eyebrows pinched and gaze conflicted.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he says, and turns away once more. The silence stretches again as Lance struggles to collect his thoughts.

“You’re right,” Lance says slowly, “I don’t know what you’re going through. But that doesn’t mean you’re alone. You don’t have to listen to the jerks at school, or give them anything they want from you. You just have to do what’s best for you, whatever that means. And… I don’t know who you’re waiting for, or why but…” he huffs out a laugh, “there’s this stupid thing my mama used to tell me…” he trails off, peering up at Keith as if waiting for permission to continue, until Kogane turns his head to peek down at Lance, curiousity thinly veiled in his gaze. Lance sucks in a breath.

“My tio died when I was little,” he starts. “He was close with the family, and it was hard for me to… figure it out, I guess. It was like I kept expecting him to show up at the door and make everything alright. My mama, she took me outside once and had me look up at the sky, at night.” Lance gazes up at the rolling clouds, spotting a break in the canopy blanketing the sky. He side steps, bringing himself inches away from Kogane, gazing into the gap revealing a couple of twinkling stars pressing through the fog to reach them.

“She told me my tio was up there with the stars,” he says, “that everyone who leaves us down here gets a star up in the sky, so that they can watch over all of the people they love down on Earth. I know it’s stupid, but at the very least it reminds me that no matter where I am, I’m not alone. Maybe he isn’t up there but… everyone I love is looking up at the same stars I am, no matter where they are. It reminds me I’m not alone.” He finishes and glances up warily at Keith’s hooded expression, indiscernible to him. And then, to his surprise, Keith barks out a laugh. Its short, and quick, but Lance can tell it’s genuine.

“I’m sorry,” Keith says, regaining his composure slightly, “I’m sorry. You really believe that astrology bullshit?” Lance feels his stomach drop, and he turns away, embarrassed and angry.

“Fine,” he snaps, “sorry I tried to make you feel better!”

“Hey,” Keith says, voice surprisingly soft, and then Lance is being yanked sideways by the front of his shirt until he’s directly in front of the other boy. One hand stays fisted in his shirt, and suddenly Lance’s brain short circuits because Keith Kogane is _kissing him_. It’s hard and fast, nothing about it gentle, a forceful and intent pressure upon his lips that lingers only a moment before it’s taken away, and Lance is left breathless in its wake. Keith pulls back, and Lance has to physically stop himself from following him.

“Thank you,” Keith says simply, and then, “also, your bus is here.” Lance gapes for a moment more before his words register, and he sees the bus pulled up next to them, driver glaring annoyedly at the pair.

“Oh- okay,” Lance says, unsure of what to do now that Kogane has thrown him for such a massive loop. “I- uh, I’ll see you later then?” He states unsurely, and pulls out finger guns. _Actual finger guns, oh my god McClain_ he groans internally.

“See you,” Keith says, and Lance steps onto the bus, slowly walking to the closest available window seat. He peers out to look for Keith once he’s settled, but the boy is already gone as the bus begins to pull off. Lance can’t stay disappointed though, heart thrumming in his chest, cheeks alight with blush and unable to conceal the smile on his face. 

He doesn’t know it then, but that’s the last time he sees Kogane for two years.

***

Lance wakes up with a shiver down his spine and warmth along the curve of his lips. But he’s not against Keith in the rain, he realizes after several moments of a confused return to full consciousness. No, the chill is the absence of his blankets, not the rain, and the warmth against his lips is in fact only the pillow pressed up against his face. He groans at the realization, promptly rolling over onto his back to stare moodily at the ceiling. There’s a throbbing between his temples he can attribute to the alcohol last night, and everything seems to be spinning around him a bit. All in all, it’s not as bad as it could be, he thinks. And then he sits straight up in bed because he _remembers_. His head swims at the abrupt movement, and he groans, sandwiching it between his hands. But he can’t shake the memory that’s just assaulted him, of Keith, right in front of him last night, eyes fiery even in the blue lighting, breath fanning across Lance’s face. Keith looked like he was going to kiss him. Lance falls back onto the bedspread, arm across his face to cover his wide smile, even though no one’s around to see it. He slowly manages to retrieve his phone from the nightstand, pleased when he’s somewhat able to make out the screen. A green notification waits on his home screen, and Lance’s heart rate picks up when he reads the sender.

_Mullet: I’m so hungover_

Lance grins, not necessarily at the content, but just at the mere fact that Keith texted him at all, and writes back.

_Loverboy: Yeah, I figured. I probably should have stopped you drinking earlier though, sorry_

He pauses for a moment before sending a second text.

_Loverboy: Pretty wild night though, right?_

He bites his lip in anticipation as Keith’s side of the screen pops up with the typing bubble, and it seems like a painstaking amount of time until he finally replies.

_Mullet: Honestly I can’t remember most of the night. I think Adam gave me more drinks back at the house bc Shiro is pissed at him_

And seriously??? Lance stares at the text incredulously before promptly flipping over, shoving his face into his pillow, and screaming. It’s just his luck that Keith would forget something like this- for the second time, to boot. Once he’s finished, he turns onto his back again, and picks up his phone.

_Loverboy: Aw no fun :( also not my favorite first impression of Adam_

_Mullet: I’ll be sure to tell him you said that_

_Loverboy: NO_

_Loverboy” KEITH NO I DIDNT MEAN IT_

_Mullet: Mhmm_

_Loverboy: Please don’t tell_

_Loverboy: :(_

_Mullet: I can’t believe you_

_Mullet: Fine_

_Loverboy: Aw thanks Keefy I knew you loved me_

_Mullet: Don’t call me that_

_Loverboy: Fine_

_Loverboy: I’m just relieved I don’t work this morning, my head is killing me_

_Mullet: You have work off all day?_

_Loverboy: Yup!_

Keith takes longer typing out his next response, and Lance’s heart rate kicks up when he reads it.

_Mullet: So you’re free tonight?_

Lance bites his lip to control his smile, and types out a harried response.

_Loverboy: Yep! Why, miss me already?_

_Mullet: Shiro and Adam’s bookstore is opening tomorrow, and they’re inviting people over to celebrate tonight. I hate to ask it of you, but Shiro’s been giving me shit about bringing a plus one for weeks now. You could come if you want?_

_Loverboy: As your plus one?_

_Mullet: Something like that_

_Loverboy: Is that even a question? I owe you like my whole life for fixing Blue_

_Mullet: You don’t owe me anything? And I still think it’s weird you named your car_

_Loverboy: ITS NOT WEIRD_

_Loverboy: Besides, you can call your motorcycle Red and they can match!_

_Mullet: Absolutely not_

_Loverboy: Absolutely yes_

_Loverboy: Cmon Keith it’s a great idea_

_Keith: See you at eight Lance_

_Loverboy: :)_

***

By the time eight o’ clock rolls around, Pidge has prodded Matt out of his seemingly endless sleep and back to his house, and she and Hunk are enjoying a late dinner in the common room. That is, until Lance bursts out of his room, trussed up in a light pair of slacks and pink button down, the collar popped stylishly. Pidge, having just taken a bite of dinner, lowers her head over her plate in order to let the noodles slide from her mouth and back onto the plate, ignoring Hunk’s groan of disgust.

“Where are you going?” She aks incredulously, eyeing his attire warily. Lance pulls at his collar and runs a hand through his hair, shifting foot to foot, and coughs out something indiscernible.

“What? Speak up, Lance,” Hunk admonishes. Lance tilts his head back with an exaggerated groan.

“I’m going to Shiro and Adam’s bookstore celebratory thingy,” he admits.

“What?” Hunk exclaims, “Why weren’t we invited? I didn’t know about this!”

“I think I know why,” Pidge grins, and Lance looks away as his face heats up in embarrassment. “I think Lance is getting special priviledges from Shiro’s little brother, am I right?”

“It’s not special privilege!” Lance bites out defensively, “Keith just needed a plus one. I’m doing him a favor!” A beat of silence was shared in the room before Pidge and Hunk burst out laughing.

“Oh god,” Pidge cackles, “you’re his plus one. You two are so oblivious, I’m gonna lose it.”

“It’s not like that!” Lance yells, “Keith doesn’t feel that way about me, so quit it you two!” He rolls his eyes when the pair struggle to control their laughter in lieu of a response. “Whatever, I don’t have to explain anything to you.” With that, he storms past the kitchen table, and through the apartment door, pivoting to slam it behind him pointedly.

“Woah,” a voice comes from his other side, and Lance whips around with a yelp. 

“Keith!” he exclaims, startled, “what are you doing here?” The boy regards him quizzically, raising his wrist to check the time.

“Um, it’s almost eight,” he says slowly, and then glances up at Lance in mild concern, “Should I have come later? I’m a little early, sorry.”

“It’s fine!” Lance chirps, “It’s fine, I should be sorry, my roommates were just giving me grief.” Keith’s eyebrows knit together slightly at that, and a small smile graces his features.

“Pidge and Hunk seem to do that a lot,” he notes with amusement. Lance sighs, crossing his arms across his chest.

“You have no idea,” he grits out. Keith nods solemnly at that, and Lance swears he imagines the way the raven-haired boy’s eyes flick down Lance’s form and back up again, near indiscernible.

“Well…,” Keith starts, “should we get going?”

“Sure man,” Lance nods, “how about we take Blue? Now that she’s all fixed up?”

“Sounds fine to me,” Keith shrugs, and only hesitates for a breath before turning on his heel and heading for the stairwell, Lance darting forwards to match his pace just behind him. He tries to be subtle in the way he observes Keith’s own appearance; he dons a simple black pair of slacks and navy blue button down, a matching black blazer thrown over his shoulder. And- Lance can’t believe he overlooked this detail -his hair is pulled back at the base of his scalp, revealing an appealing length of pale skin above the collar of his shirt. _Well, fuck me I guess_ Lance thinks. 

They arrive at Blue relatively quickly, and it’s only a few minutes before Lance is pulling out of the parking garage, trying not to overthink whether he’s imagining the smell in his car or not. While Lance focuses on following Keith’s somewhat confusing directions, Keith switches channels on the radio, fingers dancing back and forth across the dash until he settles on one particular station. Lance scrunches his nose up as soon as he recognizes the song, the male singer’s voice deep and flaunting an exaggerated twang.

“Country, Keith?” he asks, “Really?” Keith turns to him slowly, eyes narrowed.

“Yes, Lance,” he replies, “Problem?”

“Problem?” Lance mocks, “Yeah it’s a problem! Country is the worst genre of music there is!! How can you listen to it? Actually, I take that back, you would listen to country music.”

“I enjoy it,” Keith snaps, “Geez, first my hair and now this? Do you force your judgement onto everyone like this or am I just unlucky?”

“I stand by the hair thing,” Lance says, engrossed even as he turns into a parking space in the back lot, “I can recommend you some decent barbers if you ask, acknowledging you have a problem is the first step, you know.”

“You’re insufferable,” Keith says, ripping his seatbelt off and shoving the car door open, “Remind me why I invited you here again?”

“Because you were in desperate need of my assistance,” Lance replies, “and through the goodness of my heart I agreed to help you in your plight.”

“Oh, I remember,” Keith ignores Lance’s comment completely, raising a hand as though he’s actually just remembered something, “You said you owed me a favor, because I, oh right! Fixed your car, and drove you to work every day for weeks.” Lance lets out an indignant gasp at that, stepping fully out of Blue and heading around to the front of the vehicle.

“I didn’t make you drive me anywhere!” Lance cries, “You were insistent! And I offered to pay the difference! If you weren’t so stubborn, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!”

“Sure, I didn’t have to drive you, Lance,” Keith scoffs, slamming the car door shut, sarcasm bleeding thickly into his tone, “I was just going to let you walk to work every day, like a jerk. I was trying to be a good neighbor,” Lance feels something in him drop at that, and tries to ignore the sensation.

“Well,” he begins trying to keep the sudden onslaught of bitterness out of his voice, “_Neighbor_, I relieve you of all your duties from here on out. You don’t have to do anything for me just because you feel you’re obligated to.” His voice breaks at the last word, and he feels himself turn pink with surprise and embarrassment. Just a moment ago he and Keith were bickering over haircuts and music, and now he’s gone and made it into something else entirely, all because of some stupid feelings he should have left buried years ago, but that he can’t prevent from climbing back up his chest, spreading through his veins and thoughts like a disease. He starts to pivot, shifting his weight to move away from Keith and closer to the bookstore, when he hears a scuffling sounds behind him, his only warning before wrist is caught in a firm grasp, and he’s tugged back around. The maneuver leaves him with a strange sense of deja vu, the action so similar to the one Rolo performed just last night, but when he turns he’s met with Keith’ form instead, an inexplicable and subtle smile gracing his features, despite his eyebrows twisting in concern above the bridge of his nose.

“Lance, wait,” Keith huffs out, “That’s not how I meant it.” His eyes travel downwards, and maybe he realizes the similarity to the previous night as well, because he immediately releases his grip. Lance tries not to mourn the contact too much.

“How did you mean it then?” he asks instead.

“I didn’t do that stuff just because we’re neighbors,” Keith insists, “Well- maybe I did at first, but it didn’t stay that way. I liked spending time with you, even if it was only a few minutes twice a day. I did it because I care about you Lance, and… I-I consider you a friend. One of my best, really.” Lance blinks in surprise, startled by the honesty of the confession- uncharacteristic for the Keith he knows- and feels his face heat up, matching the pink tint that now colors his counterpart’s features.

“I- uh,” he starts, grateful Keith is now avoiding his gaze, “T-thank you. I consider you a friend, too. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off upset.”

“It’s fine,” Keith replies, before peering around Lance’s figure, features twitching in slight annoyance, “but I think we should head in. We, um, have an audience.”

“What?” Lance says, swiveling in time to see Shiro and a blonde woman before they disappear back around the corner of the building, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, stepping up onto the curb next to Lance.” They walk side by side in silence, and just as Lance’s heart rate starts to calm down, Keith places a gentle hand on his shoulder, halting the pair just before they turn the corner.

“I should warn you,” Keith says, gaze fixed on the asphalt off to Lance’s left, “My brother can be pretty nosy. And his fiance is worse, somehow. They’ll probably try to bother you a lot, and Adam can be… invasive sometimes. It’s just because he cares about me, but it’s annoying all the same.” Keith sighs, shifting to stand taller and finally looking at Lance. “Just, come and find me if it gets to be too much. I’ll try to stick with you most of the night, but I can’t promise a lot. Shiro and Adam are pretty effective when they work together, even if they’re idiots on their own.”

“Message received,” Lance nods, “but trust me, I’m great at this sort of stuff. I’ve totally got this,” he assures Keith, a cocky grin splitting his lips. Keith sighs, and it sounds resigned, despite the twitch against the corner of his mouth.

“We’ll see.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited to finally post this! It feels like I've been working on it forever, and I'm so sorry it took so long! I hope to be a little more timely in the future; I'm balancing the beginning of classes and lots of training right now. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this longer chapter, and the boys finally getting their heads out of their asses and doing something about their feelings. Well, sort of.

Inside the bookstore the air is warmer, rushing around Lance quickly and relieving some of the tension from his body. Compared to the dark and grey landscape outside, the area is full of warm colors: beige walls, tall and rich brown bookcases, colorful rows of novels and magazines lining perched against the walls. Against the far wall, beyond the cluster of guests, sits a counter top holding silver appliances, sinks, and a cash register- a coffee shop, Lance realizes. The air is heavy with murmuring, kept up by the small talk between different guests, none of whom Lance is able to recognize at first glance. He stays pressed close behind Keith, who leads the pair into the room. It’s not long before they are spotted and sought out, even with their quiet entry. With the silence of a Prius a figure approaches, and Lance remains blissfully unaware until he’s greeted by an unexpected touch at his shoulder, startling him into attention. He turns to face the newcomer, and can feel Keith do the same, now behind him. The man is tall, and wears a pair of thin silver glasses, his skin a similar tone to Lance’s albeit with a lighter shade of hair.

“Well hello there,” the man says.

“Hi,” Lance says back, and hesitates before offering his hand, “The name’s Lance, nice to meet you.”

“It is nice to meet you,” the man says, in a suggestive tone Lance can’t really find justification for, before, “I’m Adam.”

“Shiro’s fiance!” Lance blurts out in understanding, probably a bit too loudly for the setting, but Adam nevertheless cracks a smile.

“That’s me,” he says proudly, “And you must be Keith’s…”

“Friend,” Keith says from behind Lance, before reaching around the Cuban to pat Adam on the chest casually, “Congratulations on the opening.”

“Thank you,” Adam replies, “Although this is really just a formality. I’m just happy so many of our friends could make it. Old, and new.” He says, glancing down at Lance. “I hope I’ll be getting to see more of you, Lance. I know Keith is rather picky with his… friends. You must be something special.”

“Oh, I’m not sure about that,” Lance says with a nervous chuckle, “But I hope Keith’ll let me stick around a little longer.” He chides and pokes an elbow backwards into Keith’s ribs, who looks somewhat uncomfortable about the whole ordeal.

“Eh, I don’t know,” Keith shrugs, “we’ll see.”

“We’ll see!” Lance gasps, “We’ll see? I thought we bonded, Keith!”

“Bonded?” Keith asks, and leans back as though racking his brain, “Nope, don’t remember it, didn’t happen.” Lance turns to him at that, shoving a finger into his chest.

“You! Are insufferable!” he bites.

“Huh, deja vu,” Keith smirks, and Lance hates how attractive it is. He feels his lips beginning to quirk of their own accord, and turns back around before Keith can see the smitten smile cross his face. Unfortunately, the action causes him to betray his enamored expression to Adam, who takes immediate note, much to Lance’s dismay.

“You two are cute,” the older man says, and Lance burns in his fiery wake. Maybe Keith was right to warn him about this guy- he seems relatively forward.

“Takashi!” Adam calls, raising an arm to call over Keith’s brother, who emerges from the crowd eerily fast. He’s tailed by the same blonde woman Lance caught a glance of from outside the store earlier. Shiro splits into a wide grin as he approaches, and opens his arms, advancing steadily towards Lance’s figure, but his eyes are trained elsewhere, and Lance dips out of the way just in time for the man to scoop his younger brother up into an encompassing hug. Keith, on his part, takes the action with clear resignation, not reciprocating but not fighting the open affection, either. And despite his body language, Lance can see Keith’s face light up with affection just as strong. The two embrace for a few moments, before Shiro finally lets go of the slightly shorter boy and steps back.

“Good to see you, Keith,” he says.

“Yeah, yeah, you too, Shiro,” Keith huffs. And then Lance remembers himself, just in time for Shiro to turn and tower over him.

“Hi, Mr. Takashi- UH- Mr. Shiro, sir,” Lance stutters out, and okay, probably not his most eloquent moment, but can anyone blame him? Shiro is the most important figure in Keith’s life he’s met so far, so what if he’s a little self conscious? Over Shiro’s shoulder, Keith makes eye contact with him and grins smugly, before mouthing _smooth_ at Lance. Lance barely refrains from making an obscene gesture or pulling a face, since he remains trapped in Shiro’s gaze. He rolls his eyes quickly instead, hopefully fast enough for Shiro to miss. If he sees it, the older man doesn’t react, and steps towards Lance, offering his hand. Lance takes it, shaking it firmly.

“Just call me Shiro,” Shiro says, “Any friend of Keith’s is a friend of mine.”

“O-okay,” Lance says, “Well then, nice to meet you, Shiro.”

“Nice to meet you, too…”

“Lance,” Lance fills in.

“Lance,” Shiro nods, and his brows raise as though realizing something. “Ah! Where are my manners! This is my colleague, Romelle. She’s been instrumental in getting everything up and running.” Shiro steps aside to reveal the small blonde girl from earlier, who looks much younger up close.

“Pleasure,” Romelle says with a wave. Lance nods back with uttered greeting, before pivoting slightly to face Keith. To his surprise, Keith is already halfway through stepping towards him, gaze intent upon Lance’s figure. But before he can fully reach him, another form moves to intercept him. Adam.

“Keith,” he says, “Let’s grab a drink, huh? We have a lot to catch up on.” He barely gives the boy time to respond before he’s linking their arms and whisking them away towards the other edge of the room. “Romelle, come with us,” he says, and the girl doesn’t hesitate to comply, rushing off as though this interaction is commonplace. Lance watches them go, catching Keith’s frustrated glance over his shoulder, before turning to face his fate: isolation with Shiro. Lance has to admit, maybe Keith was right. Lance is skilled at navigating social situations, but he expected Adam and Shiro’s style to be a little more nuanced, to have to dodge insinuations in small talk and charm them with anecdotes. But instead the pair worked together in an extremely blunt manner, leaving no question as to their intentions- to get Lance alone. If Lance had a white flag, he’d certainly be waving it by now, even having to endure Keith’s _I told you so’s._

“So Lance,” Shiro starts casually, “You’re the barista from Altea Coffee, right?”

“Oh, yeah, I am,” Lance says, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice. Between all of his and Keith’s interactions over the past weeks, he’d almost forgotten that their very first included Shiro, though he hadn’t known him at the time. “It’s crazy, that feels like so long ago.”

“It really wasn’t that long,” Shiro says, “but it seems like you two have become close friends. Keith usually doesn’t bring anyone Adam and I don’t already know to functions like this.”

“Well, we already know each other, sort of,” Lance notes, but his voice betrays his uncertainty at the last few words. He’s seen Shiro a couple of times, and to him this qualifies him as an acquaintance, but from experience he knows some people need a lot more exposure for him to qualify as a person of significance in their lives.

“I’ve seen you here and there,” Shiro concedes, “but I’d hardly say I know you, Lance.”

“Oh- oh yeah sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Lance laughs nervously, “I guess I just thought I’d seen you more than I had.”

“Lance,” Shiro says, “It’s fine, really. Besides, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other tonight.” And damn, if Shiro wasn’t engaged, Lance would think he was being flirted with right now.

“Yeah, I guess,” Lance says, “But not all night! I can’t leave Keith alone too long.”

“Keith will be fine,” Shiro assures, stepping forwards towards Lance, “For now, let’s talk about you!” Lance watches as Shiro pulls something out of his pocket- his phone, he realizes, and taps the screen a bit, _With his forefinger?_ Lance thinks, _Keith was right, he is a dad._ Finally he seems to get to whatever he wants on his phone, and looks up at Lance.

“So Lance, do you have any goals outside of being a barista?” He asks, and okay, upfront much? Nevertheless, Lance replies,

“Well, I’m a student, working to go into education right now.”

“Interesting,” Shiro says and- christ, did he actually just type that into his phone??

“Now,” Shiro says, “Let’s say your house was burning down, and you only had time to grab three things. What would you take?” Lance sighs, behind the never ending string of _ohgodnononononoplease_ being chanted in his head. He can already tell this is going to be a long night.

***

Lance doesn’t know how long he endures the endless barrage of Shiro’s questioning, only that it feels like hours of talking about his medical records, family, and character traits. It feels like some sort of date from hell, and he’s left wondering what he did to deserve this kind of torture. Just when he’s resigning himself to having to end the conversation rudely, something wraps around his waist and spins him away from Shiro, whose mouth is open halfway through another goddamn question. He has a suspicion (a hope, a fervent, desperate hope) as to who it is, and he feels his shoulders sag in relief when he turns to face Keith.

“Keith,” he smiles, and it comes out exhausted.

“Hey,” Keith says, “I’m sorry that took so long. You look like you could use a drink?”

“You have no idea,” Lance says, lowly enough that Shiro hopefully can’t hear it from behind him.

“I’m borrowing Lance,” Keith says pointedly over Lance’s shoulder, never breaking his gaze.

“Of course,” Shiro says, and if his voice sounds a little disappointed, Lance doesn’t react. He’s done his time for the night. When Keith starts to turn away, he stumbles forwards after him, staying close to his side without pressing directly into him.

“We don’t have to stay much longer,” Keith says, gaze trained forwards as he leads them through the crowd. “I just need to say goodbye to a few people, if that’s okay?”

“Of course that’s fine,” Lance says, chuckling lightly, “It’s your party, Keith.”

“But I invited you,” Keith says, “and then let you spend the whole evening talking to Shiro. I don’t think it’s insane of me to try and ask your opinion.”

“Somehow I get the feeling leaving me to Shiro wasn’t your intention,” Lance says, “and it’s kind of my fault anyways. You did try to warn me.”

“No,” Keith says sagely, “that was no one’s fault except Shiro’s. He’s a monster.” Lance laughs at Keith’s solemn tone.

“It felt like I was getting interviewed over there,” he jokes, “does he do that to everyone you bring along?”

“I don’t usually invite people to family stuff,” Keith admits, “I think he’s panicking. He always gives me shit for coming alone, but he doesn’t know how to react when I don’t.” They reach the table together, and Keith picks up a sweet, chocolatey looking drink, handing it to Lance before picking up his own. He raises it up in the air, as though about to make a dramatic toast.

“To getting the hell out of here as fast as possible,” he declares.

“Cheers to that, good sir,” Lance grins, and knocks their glasses together with a little _clink_. The two down their drinks relatively quickly, and Lance tries not to gag at the cheap, near salty taste.

“Ugh, what was _that_?” Lance exclaims.

“I’ve never been so disappointed,” Keith shakes his head, setting down the empty glass.

“We are so getting milkshakes after this,” Lance says, and Keith smiles brightly back- more brightly than he’s seen before.

“Yeah?” Keith asks, and Lance tries not to stare too intently at the rows of exposed pearly whites.

“Definitely,” Lance says, “Now, come on. Let’s get this over with,” he jokes, winking. If Keith’s face turns a little pink at that, he’s sure it’s just the lighting- or the drink, non-alcoholic as it may be. He trails Keith the remainder of the time, keeping track of different names and faces in the blur. He cracks jokes here and there, keeping the conversations interesting if brief. If his talent is navigating conversations, Keith’s is ending them. The moment a lull or awkward pause arises, he swoops in swiftly and kills whatever remnants of social conduct remain with a polite but firm excuse to leave. While Lance is sure Adam and Shiro loathe this quality, he can’t help but appreciate it. The night is beginning to wear on him, especially taking the last night into account. He can feel the exhaustion setting into his bones, and it makes him dizzy with sleep- the promise of milkshakes the only thing keeping him going at this point. But Keith is efficient, and soon they’ve returned to Shiro and Adam once more, the final obstacle preventing their escape.

“I’m sorry we can’t stay longer,” Lance found himself apologizing, avoiding Shiro’s scrutinizing gaze.

“It’s no issue,” Adam says, “Things are slowing down around here anyhow. I’m glad you could make it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay longer?” Shiro asks, “Adam and I could close things early, and drive you two home?”

“Shiro,” Keith cuts in, “we’re fine. Lance has a car here, we’ll be home in no time. Enjoy the party. It’s your guys’ night.” Adam wraps his arm around Shiro’s shoulders, and Lance can see the way the taller man relaxes slightly at the action.

“Alright,” Shiro sighs finally, “be safe, then.” He steps forwards to embrace Keith once more, and to Lance’s surprise Keith meets him in the middle this time, wrapping his arms around the older man’s back.

“Goodnight, Adam,” Keith says, backing away from his brother and raising his hand. Lance raises his hand in a similar gesture, before his wrist is caught in Keith’s grip, who -now free of his social obligations- pulls Lance quickly after him, through the crowd and the swinging bookstore doors, and into the fresh, if chilly, night air. Lance smiles as the door closes behind them, and Keith turns to face him, eyes alight.

“We’re free!” Lance grins, unable to hide his smile.

“Finally,” Keith agrees, pumping his fist slightly. Lance resists the urge to snort at the somewhat dorky action.

“Milkshakes await,” Lance practically moans instead, “I’m so excited.”

“I know a place just up the street, if you’re okay with walking,” Keith suggests.

“Sounds great,” Lance smiles, and waits for Keith to turn so he can step into pace with him. Keith lingers an odd amount of time, gaze remaining trained on Lance before he seems to snap out of it, and turn quickly away. Lance would mark it down as odd, but he’s rather endeared by Keith’s awkward side, if he’s being honest. He springs into step next to the man, eager to reach their destination, not an obstacle in sight.

Not an obstacle, besides the weather, of course.

“Dios,” Lance curses, rubbing his hands together in front of him, “a little warning from the forecast would have been nice.”

“If you’d checked it, I’m sure you would have seen it was supposed to be chilly tonight,” Keith quips bemusedly from beside him. “I personally don’t think it’s too bad.”

“Ugh,” Lance groans, “You _would_ say something like that. I’m from Cuba, Keith, everything is cold to me!”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Keith tells him, sporting a stupid little side grin.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Lance mocks, turning away from him and crossing his arms to preserve what little heat he can. He’s about to launch into another rant, with the end goal of insulting Keith and his stupidly warm body, when he feels something drape across his shoulders. It takes a minute for it to click in his head, that Keith’s just lent him his jacket, and when it does he can feel his insides erupt in, well, in butterflies. He looks up, eyes probably comically wide, to meet Keith’s gaze, who looks a little embarrassed. Lance lifts his hands up to the collar, grabbing the garment and making to remove it upon seeing Keith’s jacketless state, but Keith anticipates this, and jumps to catch Lance’s wrists in his own hands.

“Keith,” Lance complains, “_You_ need this.”

“Nope,” Keith shakes his head, popping the p in his word, “I just told you I run hot, and even I’m not mean enough to stand by while you freeze to death.”

“I’m not freezing to death,” Lance protests weakly, already aware he’s not going to convince the older boy.

“I can see you shivering from here, Lance,” Keith huffs, bangs falling over his eyes slightly, “Just accept the gesture. Besides, maybe now I’ll be spared from your complaining?” Keith removes his grip, and Lance furrows his brows, tugging the garment closer around his shoulders now, and burrowing into the heat left over from Keith’s body. If he takes an abnormally deep breath in, it’s to steady his shivering, not to smell the bit of Keith’s scent that lingers on the fabric. Definitely not that.

“Oh, so you just did this to shut me up?” he challenges, “I don’t think so. I think it’s because deep down, under that emo boy facade, you care about me,” he chirps playfully, hopping back into step with Keith who’s begun walking once more.

“Definitely not the case,” Keith responds, avoiding Lance’s gaze, and Lance knows he’s embarrassed.

“Aw, it’s okay Keithy,” Lance assures, “I won’t tell anyone that you’re actually a softie. It’ll be our secret.” Keith snorts at that, and catches Lance off guard, shifting to hook his elbow onto Lance’s and pull him close, so that Lance can feel Keith’s heat right up against his side. His mouth flaps open, but no coherent response makes itself known to him, and he snaps it shut accordingly, looking sideways at Keith instead, startled by the sudden proximity.

“There,” Keith says, gaze pointedly forwards, “Now keep up with me. We’re never going to make it if we keep stopping every time you make a stupid joke.”

“Uh, right,” Lance blurts out. They continue forwards mostly in silence, occasionally filled by a comment about the night, or the lights illuminating the different stores. Lance feels his heart rate pick up as he shifts a little closer to Keith, can feel himself teetering over the edge of something as he delicately tilts his head and presses his cheek into the curve of Keith’s shoulder, hoping the action is subtle, or at the very least that he can play it off as being tired. He can feel Keith tense up under his touch, and Lance almost has the sense to retract the action, before Keith relaxes with a sigh and something warm presses onto the top of his head, so fleeting Lance is left wondering if he imagined it. Lance sighs, mirroring Keith, and lets his eyes close for a few moments, trusting Keith to lead them to the ice cream shop. It’s not long before he feels their pace slow, and looks up to see a fluorescent pink sign flickering above them, reading “Custard Cup”.

“I’ve never been here before,” Lance notes.

“It’s my favorite,” Keith says, and opens the door, allowing Lance to step through before he follows him in. The place is nothing special, the floors tiled black and white in a classic style, a display case lit up brightly to showcase different flavors.

“I didn’t really take you for an ice cream kind of guy, you know,” Lance says, thinking aloud, “more of a, gym rat, ‘I eat protein powder and spinach’ kind of thing.”

“You thought I was a _gym rat_?” Keith asks incredulously, “I can’t believe this. I’ve got to leave right now, sorry,” he says, turning away as if he’s going to walk out of the shop.

“Noo!” Lance laughs, latching onto his arm, “I’m sorry! What was I supposed to think? You’re all, muscly and stuff,” he points out, flailing his hands at Keith’s physique for emphasis.

“I am not,” Keith argues, “I have a normal body type!”

“Oh yeah, if you have a normal body type, what the heck do I have?” he argues, gesturing down at himself, “I look like a spaghetti noodle.”

“Nope,” Keith shakes his head, “You are not allowed to talk bad about yourself while I’m around. And besides, I love spaghetti.” He smiles at Lance, and it’s such a stupidly charming thing to say, and a stupidly Keith thing to do to try and make him feel better even when Lance was joking. _I’d let you eat me, too_, Lance thinks, and then flushes at his own thoughts, drawing Keith’s attention unintentionally.

“Ugh, come on,” Lance scoffs, using his grip on Keith’s arm to pull them up to the fridge, where they can see the menu better, before Keith can get too good a look at his face. Almost immediately a worker dressed in a pink apron walks up and greets them, no doubt already alerted to their presence from their arguing. They take a minute to decide, and eventually Lance orders a mint oreo shake, and Keith a simple chocolate shake.

“Boring,” Lance teases.

“Not boring,” Keith argues back, “Classic.”

Once their drinks are ready, they slide into a booth, sitting across from one another. They talk about everything Lance can think of, from Lance complaining about his numerous siblings’ antics, to debating which Star Wars character was the hottest.

“Han,” Keith had declared certainly, “He’s got that whole scoundrel thing going for him, and he’s charming with the ladies. Although, I always thought he had some chemistry with Luke.”

“Han’s pretty hot, you’ve got me there,” Lance agreed, “But have you _seen_ Anakin in the third movie? He’s sooo hot. And he’s got that whole broody, bad boy thing going for him. Plus he’s got better hair than Han.”

“You like bad boys, then?” Keith had asked, smirking and leaning in towards Lance across the table, “Well, baby, I’m bad at everything.” Lance had shoved him away at that, hiding his face in his hands.

“You’re the worst,” he’d gritted out behind his smile while Keith laughed across from him. As the night went on, the two drained all of their milkshakes, and probably all of the cashier’s patience, but Lance felt like he could spend eternity here with Keith.

“Well,” Lance says, “I told you all about my family, what’s yours like?” he asks innocently, hoping to get to know a little more about Keith, but his stomach drops when Keith looks pointedly away and tenses his shoulders.

“Uh-” Lance scrambles, “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to…” he tries to apologize, able to tell he’s made Keith uncomfortable.

“No, it’s okay,” Keith cuts him off, “Just a little complicated.” He sighs, shifting to face Lance dead on, and Lance brings his hand up to his face, nervously tucking the his hair behind his ear when he can feel it’s ruffled.

“I should probably start by telling you that Shiro isn’t my real brother,” he says, surprising Lance. The two of them looked so alike, he never would have guessed. “I never knew my parents growing up. My dad died while my mom was pregnant, and she gave me up for adoption. They were both really young, I think. So, I ended up cycling through the foster system.” Lance feels his heart break a little bit. He’s been so close to his family all his life, he can’t imagine how alone Keith must have felt, even if he had good foster families.

“Eventually I ended up with Shiro’s family,” Keith says, and he smiles a little for the first time in this conversation, “and that’s when stuff changed for me. I hated Shiro at first, hated that he was trying to be my friend, trying to be a brother to me. But, well, you met Shiro. He has a way of getting into your life even if you don’t want him. He took care of me, and became the most important person in my life. He’s actually the one that convinced me to start looking for my mom. It took us a really long time, but I’ll always be so grateful he convinced me to do it.”

“So, you met her then?” Lance asks quietly

“Yeah, I did. She’s really nice, actually, I go visit her fairly often. Her name’s Krolia,” Keith answers. “It took me a while to forgive her. I was really angry with her at first, but I think I understand now why she did it. I mean, I’m sure it would have been really hard to raise a kid on your own that young.”

“That's… wow,” Lance puffs out a breath, “You’re right, that is complicated.” Lance offers an uncertain smile, and Keith shifts, looking at him almost nervously. Well, that just won’t do.

“Thank you for telling me,” Lance says, crossing his arm in front of him on the table and leaning into them, “I know that must have been hard to go through. You’re really strong, Keith.” Keith makes a disgruntled noise under his breath

“I know it’s a lot,” he says.

“It’s a part of who you are, though,” Lance continues, “And I… I’m never going to hold something like that against you or say it’s too much. Honestly, Keith, I just admire you more.” Keith’s cheeks turn pink at that, and he looks away, scrunching his face up.

“You make me sound all great and heroic for something I couldn’t even control,” Keith complains, “You remember me from high school apparently- so I’m sure you know I didn’t handle most of this well. I was probably a total dick around you at some point.”

“Well, you weren’t _that_ big of a dick,” Lance jokes, “You were just…”

“A degenerate bad boy, maybe?” Keith teases, and Lance gasps in offence.

“I should have never told you that!” Keith laughs in response to the other boy’s indignation, and rests his elbows on the table, mirroring Lance, his posture relaxing.

“You probably don’t know this, but Shiro used to serve in the army. He went MIA during the summer after junior year. He was the last real family I had, and I just kind of snapped after that. Obviously, he got back fine eventually, but that... was hard for me.” And Lance has some beef with God, he thinks, for letting a person as wonderful and caring as Keith suffer as much as he has.

“Oh, that… makes sense, I guess,” Lance says, stunned into silence more than he ever thinks he’s been in his entire life. He doesn’t know what to say in the face of such sheer honesty.

“Yeah,” Keith says, “So, now you know everything, basically.”

“That was a lot, but nothing that’s gonna scare me off, Kogane,” Lance assures, and Keith makes an unreadable face at the nickname. “I don’t suppose you have time to tell that to every boy you take out to ice cream?”

“Only the really pretty ones,” Keith hits back, so fast Lance almost gets whiplash from the way the conversation has shifted.

“Shut up,” Lance blushes furiously, feeling the heat crawl up his face, before spreading down his neck and chest. He shoves his fist up against his mouth, trying to get his skin color under control while Keith chuckles, which really doesn’t help his situation. Lance finally calms his heart rate down enough to face Keith’s direction and push his empty glass across to the middle of the table. Keith sighs, leaning back and checking his watch on his wrist.

“It’s almost midnight,” he notes bluntly, “I guess we should probably head back soon.”

“I guess,” Lance sighs, disappointment palpable. He really doesn’t want to leave. Still, he stands when Keith does, pulling the other boy’s jacket close around his shoulders. Keith isn’t much taller than him, but he feels as though he’s swimming in his jacket. Keith watches him as he adjusts the sleeves, a fond smile across his face, his eyebrows slanted with an emotion Lance can’t quite decipher.

“Ready?” he asks.

“As ever,” Lance replies, and follows him out towards his car. The two sit in comfortable silence on the ride home, the radio low and playing a slow song. As they grow closer to the apartment, Lance knows the route a little better- well, by heart -and cautiously slides his right hand down off the steering wheel to rest on the center console. _Smooth_, he thinks, happy to have left the ball in Keith’s court. He can see Keith shift in his peripheral, and can tell he’s noticed the movement. Lance feels his heart rate pickup once again, an incessant drumming in his chest. He almost crashes the car when something wraps around his hand, warm and encompassing. Keith’s hand is softer than he imagined it would be, if still a little rough. He goes a little lightheaded when he feels Keith begin to rub small, almost unnoticeable circles in the divots between Lance’s knuckles. He tries with all his might to focus on the road, desperate not to crash the vehicle now that he has this, now that he potentially could have more of these little, heart-stopping moments in the future. Keith continues to defy all of Lance’s expectations, giving himself to the Cuban piece by piece and shattering the boy Lance once knew, replacing him with someone so familiar yet new that Lance can hardly keep up with it. Somehow he manages to pull the car in the garage, and keeps his gaze firmly ahead until he has to pull his hand out of Keith’s grip to shift the car into park. He yearns for the touch to return as soon as it’s gone, and barely refrains from asking for more of the addictive contact. Instead, he turns the car, off, and both boys step out of their respective sides, Keith coming around the back to join him at the foot of the stairwell. They head up the stairs in silence, pressed closer together than they were earlier in the evening. Lance wants to say something, anything, but every time he tries to the words catch in his throat, and anxiety shakes him until he gives up on the endeavor. Finally, they reach Lance’s apartment, and Lance turns to face Keith, looking up after a moment’s hesitation.

“Uh, I guess we’re here,” he says dumbly. Keith nods, almost to himself, before adding a blunt,

“Yeah.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Lance says, “It was… really fun.” _Dios_, Lance thinks, he’s practically drowning in the tension between them in the dim lighting of the hallway, and he’s desperately hoping this isn’t all in his head. It can’t just be in his head, Keith’s actions tonight at least give him some confidence in that.

“Of course,” Keith says, and Lance screams internally. He’s really not getting a lot to work with here, and for some reason his usual charm and swagger is not coming through for him right now. He feels frozen under Keith’s gaze, paralyzed by the intensity of his presence.

“Well, I guess I’ll head in then…” Lance starts reluctantly, beginning to shift to open the door, when Keith comes crashing forwards, and in a blur of movement Lance finds himself with his back to his apartment door, staring into a pair of purple-grey eyes that seem to hold infinite depths. Keith, he realizes, is leaning over him, hands on either side of him, caging him against the door. Lance opens his mouth to speak, despite not knowing what he’s going to say, but Keith beats him to it.

“I’m an idiot,” Keith says, and Lance goes blank, doing a double-take.

“W-what?” He asks, splitting into a nervous smile.

“I- ugh,” Keith drops his head, pushing a hand against his forehead, before looking back up and placing his hand closer to Lance’s shoulder, “I was an idiot, at the Garrison. For not recognizing you. For _forgetting_ you.”

“S’okay,” Lance slurs quietly, intoxicated by the sudden proximity. _Keith_, is all he can think. _Keith is right here_.

“No, it’s not okay,” Keith argues, voice loud before he squints his eyes shut, lowering it again, “It’s not okay, Lance. Because you’re- you’re you, and you’re just so-” he cuts off, looking to the side.

“I’m just so what?” Lance whispers, afraid to move any inch of his body in case he’s dreaming, scared he’ll wake up staring at his ceiling alone. Keith makes a frustrated noise, turning back to him and bringing the hand near his shoulder up to cup Lance’s neck. Lance feels his skin burn where Keith’s hand rests against him, and the burning moves to his face where he’s sure Keith can feel it, as the other boy presses their foreheads together. He opens his eyes into Lance’s, breath hot and heavy against the other’s lips. They’re pressed so close Lance can hardly breathe, and it takes all his effort to take a shuddering breath in.

“Keith,” he says, and it’s riddled with emotion, his fear, his longing, his love. Because, fuck, it’s so soon but Lance thinks he might be falling in love with this boy.

“Lance,” Keith breathes back, almost a whisper, excruciatingly close to his lips, “Lance, I- can I-” Lance feels his eyes flutter shut, and the next thing he knows the air is being knocked from his lungs, but for all the wrong reasons. When he opens them again, he’s staring at the ceiling, and his mind chants a desperate no, no, no, as he takes a pained gasp in and rolls onto his side to look up. Thank god, Keith is still there, hand raised in the air where Lance’s neck once was, gaze riddled with shock and clear frustration as he looks from Lance’s prone form up to whoever trespassed on their intimate moment. Hunk stands above Lance, hand still on the doorknob, looking frantically from Lance to Keith, both of them painted incriminating shades of pink and red.

“I thought I heard voices,” Hunk says slowly, sounding shocked and apologetic. Lance stays silent for a beat, before shooting to his feet, adrenaline making his head dizzy.

“Uhhh yep, you did buddy! Keith was just dropping me off. Thanks Keith, have a good night!” He says so quickly he can’t even process the words before their out of his mouth, and he’s closing the door quickly in Keith’s face, whose mouth is halfway open. _Oh no_, he thinks immediately, knowing he’s messed up, but he can’t bring himself to open the door, again, neck hot with embarrassment and heartbeat thrumming in his throat. _Oh no_.

“Is that, uh, Keith’s jacket?” Hunk asks from beside him. Lance lets out an inhuman groan, slamming his head into his hands promptly. He’s so fucked.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter is finally here! I am SO sorry this is so overdue- with everything going on in the world and moving out of college it's been hard to focus. But I finally finished, and this will be the last chapter of this series. I hope to post more one shots or maybe shorter series in the future (probably established klance stuff bc I'm soft for them but who knows), but nothing too long unless things change. I'd like to thank everyone who has been following this story for your support, your kudos and comments make me so happy :) Please enjoy!

A week passes, and Lance doesn’t see Keith even once. In all fairness, it’s mostly Lance’s fault. He hates himself for dashing up the stairwell and sliding quickly into his apartment every time he sees Keith’s bike in the garage for fear he’ll bump into him, but he can’t help it. He can feel his body heat up with shame and mortification every time he thinks about the last time he was around the other boy. Keith looked like he was going to kiss him, and Lance slammed the door in his face. Sure, Hunk’s untimely intrusion didn’t help, but ever since it happened Lance hasn’t stopped thinking about all of the ways he could have handled it better. He behaved like a child, and now Keith won’t talk to him.

Lance huffs in frustration, sprawled out across his bed and staring into the screen of his and Keith’s text messages. He aches to send something, anything, but everything he could say seems too obviously desperate. And the worst part is, he thinks, looking over at Keith’s jacket draped across his desk chair, he has a perfect excuse to start a conversation. Okay, so maybe he’s creating the problem for himself. But texting Keith feels like taking a leap off of a cliff, and Lance can’t will himself to make the first move. _Coward_, he thinks, turning his phone off and chucking it onto the bed in front of him and letting his forehead hit the fabric. A knock sounds on his door frame, and Lance groans, knowing who it is.

“Hey buddy,” Hunk calls, cracking his door open, “I made lunch.” Lance flops his arm in a dramatic and vague gesture that Hunk can’t really decipher.

“Still pouting, then?” Hunk asks.

“I am not _pouting_,” Lance protests, rolling over to face his roommate. “I am grieving. Grieving the loss of my dignity.” Hunk rolls his eyes, walking over to pull his friend out of bed.

“Come on, eating will make you feel better,” he promises, and Lance groans as he’s pulled along.

“I doubt it,” he mumbles, but sits down at the table anyways. Hunk slides a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup under his nose.

“Smells delicious,” Lance concedes, “I don’t exactly have the flu though.”

“You’re sure acting like it,” Pidge’s voice comes from the couch.

“Shut up Pidgeon,” Lance responds with little bite.

“You don’t have to be sick to eat chicken noodle soup, Lance,” Hunk chides, sitting down across from him. Pidge sidles up to the table a moment after, holding a half eaten bowl in her hands.

“And you don’t have to act like you’re dying just cause you can’t talk to your boyfriend anymore- oh wait, you can,” Pidge says, shooting a nasty glare in Lance’s direction.

“For like the millionth time Pidge, he’s not my boyfriend,” Lance replies, leaning his head into his hand to rub circles against his temple.

“Oh my bad, I forgot that you randomly kiss strangers against our communal door frame all the time.”

“Hunk! How much did you tell her?”

“He didn’t have to tell me anything,” Pidge replies, tapping her finger against her forehead, “I know all.”

“You guys are the worst.”

“Or are we the best?” Pidge replies, exchanging a glance with Hunk, “Tell him, Hunk.”

“Tell me what?” Lance asks, perking up a bit.

“I’m not telling you anything until you have some soup,” Hunk says pointedly, and Lance reluctantly starts spooning the broth into his mouth.

“Oghay,” he prompts, mouth half full with soup, “Tell meh.”

“We are going to the carnival this weekend,” Hunk says, “And Pidge and I got us four day passes.”

“That’s great!” Lance grins, “I love the carnival! And Pidge- those tickets must have been expensive! I hear they have a killer roller coaster this year.” He reaches his hand out to ruffle the younger girl’s hair and she screeches, hitting his hand away.

“You didn’t even listen, dumbass,” she snaps, “I said we have _four_ tickets.”

“We have- oh,” Lance realizes, “Well then who’s our -no.”

“Yes,” Pidge and Hunk say.

“No, I cannot just invite Keith after a week of radio silence,” Lance argues.

“Says who?!” Hunk exclaims, “There aren’t any rules. Lance, you know I love you, and I don’t want to see you upset. I know asking Keith out isn’t comfortable for you, but you’ve been making yourself miserable. You messed up, and barely at that. You’ve got to give yourself a chance here.” Lance feels his throat go tight, and stirs his soup nervously.

“I-I want to, Hunk,” he starts, “But it’s like he’s in my head. I’m loverboy Lance! I’ve never had problems asking people out before. But with Keith, it’s so much harder! He just has this way about him and I- ugh. I don’t want to mess it up. It just feels easier to end it now before it gets messy.”

“Is that what you want, though?” Lance stays silent, stomach turning anxiously. He swings his head to the right, eyeing Pidge and silently prodding for her advice. All he gets in return is a nonchalant shrug.

“Hey man, do what you want,” she says, “but I spent good money on that ticket, and if you’re not using it, I’m inviting Matt.” Lance sighs, swallowing another spoonful of soup before standing up abruptly and throwing his hands up into the air.

“Fine,” he concedes, “I’ll- I’ll see if he wants to come.”

“Great!” Hunk grins at him, and Lance misses the pair’s fist bump behind him as he speed walks back to his room to snatch his phone from where it lays face down on his bed. Before he can think twice he’s rapidly texting a message into his phone and sending it off with an automated _whoosh_. It’s a few minutes of tense silence before Lance’s phone lights up with a reply.

_Mullet: Sounds fun. I’ll see you there._

Tossing his phone back onto his bed, Lance rejoins his roommates at the table, ignoring their knowing glance at the smile he can’t seem to wipe from his face.

***

The remainder of the week drags along at an excruciating pace. Lance texts Keith a few more times, their regular dynamic picking back up easily. He can’t help the feelings of anxiety and shame that sweep over him whenever he thinks of his dramatics that caused him to leave Keith hanging for an entire week. As he scrolls through the light conversations stored in his messages, he realizes he really didn’t have anything to worry about.

Finally he wakes up Saturday morning, limbs buzzing with excitement at the prospect of seeing Keith again. He takes his time in the bathroom, completing as much of his skin and hair routine as he can before Pidge starts banging on the door. Undeterred, he slides into his room to pull on the clothes he’d set out the night before: a white t-shirt with a stylish blue jean jacket, black jeans, and white tennis shoes. Spinning around on his toe, he finger guns himself in the mirror and winks.

“Looking good, loverboy,” he grins, before sauntering out into the kitchen.

“Someone’s in a good mood today,” Hunk comments upon his arrival. Lance slides up next to him to help with brunch, taking the frying pan from Hunk’s hands to finish off the half-cooked scrambled eggs.

“Of course I am, I’ve been waiting all year for the summer carnival to come back,” he acknowledges.

“Yeah, I hope you and the summer carnival have a good date today,” Hunk says. Lance turns around just to flip him off, smiling somewhat sarcastically.

“Ha ha,” he mocks, turning back to finish off the eggs and turn off the stove. Scraping them off onto three plates, he helps Hunk move their brunch onto the table, complete with eggs, smoothie and pancakes. Pidge arrives a few moments later, still rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

“I knew I was onto something when I decided to room with the culinary student,” she says approvingly, “We eat better than every other college student on this campus.”

“Yes, thank you Hunk,” Lance nods, “I’d be eating dry cereal right now if it weren’t for you.”

“You helped too, Lance,” Hunk tries.

“No no no,” Lance stops him, “I held the frying pan and scraped eggs off of it. You get the credit here.” Hunk begrudgingly accepts, and the three fall into silence as they shovel down the meal.

“Mm.. by the way,” Lance starts, mouth half full of food, “When are we picking Keith up?”

“Shit, I forgot to tell you,” Pidge says, and Lance’s stomach drops. “Keith has some work to take care of, so he’ll be like thirty minutes to an hour late? I gave him his ticket last night so he can join us whenever he’s done.” Lance tries to mask his sigh of relief, worried at Pidge’s first statement that Keith wouldn’t show at all.

“Oh, okay,” he says casually, instead. The three clean up their dishes, and Lance is sure to grab his phone and wallet before they head out of the house. It’s already mid-afternoon, with Pidge being a late riser, but with the day passes they have plenty of time, and Lance likes the carnival better at night anyways. It’s only a forty minute drive away, and by the time Blue rolls up to it, the sun is high in the sky, beating down onto the trio.

“Alright losers,” Pidge says, clapping her hand together. “I say we start with the big one right there.” A giant swing ride looms up ahead of them, tackily painted bright purple and orange with a decent line spiraling away from its entrance.

“Let’s go!” Lance fist punches the air, grabbing Hunk by the hand and dragging him along despite his protests. It’s the first of many rides, Pidge and Lance having to forcibly pull Hunk to each one and persuade him that he won’t be sick on the ride. Hunk had always had a motion sickness problem, and despite taking his pills today, Lance knew that it was only a matter of time before they had to stop going on the bigger rides. The sun was lower in the sky and blazing orange by the time they had to stop, Hunk’s stomach finally a little too queasy to go on. The three settle down at a picnic table instead, Pidge going up to a counter to buy water and food.

Lance pulled out his phone from where it’d been tucked away in his jacket, turning it back on. His jaw dropped when he saw the time.

“It’s been three hours!” he gasps, unable to stop the dread from seeping into his voice. “It’s almost five-o’clock, Hunk, where’s-” he breaks off, glancing around as if expecting to see Keith’s dark figure just standing around. Hunk looks up at him from across the table in concern, tilting his head.

“Maybe he’s just running late,” he offers.

“Two hours late?” Lance snaps, hands curling into fists where he’s leaning onto the table.

“Maybe something came up,” Hunk tries again. “Keith doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would just up and ditch you.” Pidge arrives with food just then, and Lance takes the opportunity to avoid furthering the conversation and pulls out his phone.

_Loverboy: Hey, you still coming?_

_Loverboy: ?_

Lance shuts his phone off with a sigh as Pidge sits down, and grabs the jumbo pretzel set in front of him.

“Thanks, Pidge,” he says, peeved when it comes out just dejected enough for her to notice.

“Geez Hunk, what’d you do to Lance while I was gone?” she snarks, before her features soften just slightly. “Is it because Keith isn’t here? I tried texting him earlier but he didn’t reply.”

“It’s fine,” Lance replies, brushing her off. “And do you know why it’s fine? Because I’m at my favorite carnival of the year, with my two best friends in the world, and we’re going to have a great night.” He reassures them, reaching across the table to take each of their hands into one of his.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Lance?” Hunk asks, worry creeping into his tone.

“Hunk, I’m peachy. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to ol’ Lancey-Lance. Let’s just focus on having the most fun we can today. I saw some really cool tents set up in the back if you guys wanted to check them out later?”

“Sure,” Pidge says, and fixes him with a smile he knows isn’t meant to be pitying. After they finish eating, they wander over to browse the different products being displayed at the back of the carnival. It isn’t long before Pidge and Hunk get wrapped up in probably the only technological booth in the entire place, babbling on about some engineering nonsense Lance can’t be bothered to understand.

“I’ll meet back up with you guys later,” Lance promises, ignoring their protests. “I want to look at something up ahead and it will not interest you guys at all, I promise.” The two concede finally, going back to their conversation with the man running the booth. Lance treks on up ahead, stopping briefly to sample different foods and chat with vendors. Before he realizes it, he’s back up near the rides.

The sun is setting now, the sky lit up in a deep shades of pink and orange, and various rides are beginning to transition for the night, their colorful lights flickering on. It’s Lance’s favorite part of the day, but he can’t help the emotion welling up in his throat, tightening it. His chin wobbles slightly before he stops himself, taking a calming breath. It’s not as though he hasn’t been rejected before- he’s all too familiar with the situation. But something had caused him to suspect Keith was different. He’d led himself on, believed in fate or destiny or whatever fairy tale ending he thought he deserved, and this was just the feeling of returning to reality.

Lance sighs, resuming his slow walk around the park, glancing about at the lights as they turned on, at the children and teenagers and college students as they bustled about, yipping and dancing and spinning around the arena.

“-nce!”

A young blonde girl and a frizzy redhead with hands interlocked, dashing towards a carnival ride.

“-ance!” A pack of middle schoolers shouting as they encircled their friend at a shooting game.

_“Lance!_” A- Lance’s thoughts break off as something latches onto his arm and spins him around. Lance gasps, embarrassingly, aloud when he meets midnight eyes, a steaming, raw mess of guilt and relief reflected in the golden light of the carnival. He steps back, the grip on his arm faltering as he takes more of Keith into view, barely daring to believe his own eyes.

“K-Keith?” he stammers in disbelief, “You’re… here?” Keith’s eyebrows fall at that, the guilt returning to his features as he jumps to explain himself.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, voice sounding so tortured that Lance thinks he already forgives him. “I got held up at work for longer than I thought I would and then, I was in such a rush to get here I forgot my phone in my locker. I’ve been looking all over this place for you for the past hour, it’s- it’s massive here. I’m so sorry Lance, I didn’t mean to…” he trails off, as if unsure of what to say next.

“It’s okay,” Lance blurts out, because, really, it is. Some emotion he can’t name is welling up inside of him, and Lance can’t focus on anything except the fact that he’s extremely, inexplicably happy that Keith is here. So he tells him.

“I’m just happy you’re here.” Keith looks surprised at that, then unsure, before he settles into a tentative smile, stepping forwards cautiously as if scared that Lance will run off if he moves too quick. Lance supposes maybe that’s reasonable considering their last interaction. In a lapse of thought, he takes a chance, and steps forward quickly to wrap his arms around Keith’s torso, pressing himself up against the boy’s chest in a quick hug. Keith almost doesn’t have time to react, his hands brushing up against Lance’s shoulders before Lance is stepping back, just out of his space.

“So, what do you want to do?” Lance asks, cheeks burning. Keith fixes him with a look that’s indiscernible, silent just a moment too long before he seems to come back to himself.

“Anything,” he says.

“Anything?” Lance asks, “Are you sure?” Keith just nods his head at that, a smile gracing his features. His skin is golden under the lights, hair shimmering under the colors, and Lance’s heart hammers against his chest.

“Anything.”

Lance feels his face split into a grin.

“Alright,” he sing-songs, “You asked for it.”

“Yeah, I already regret this,” Keith groans, Lance suspects jokingly.

“Nope! We’re starting with the swing! I bet you’ll handle it better than Hunk did. Come on, we’ve got to make up for lost time, I’ll show you the way,” Lance reaches out to grab Keith’s hand, despite knowing fully well Keith could just follow behind him. The other boy doesn’t seem to mind, if the pink tinge along his cheeks is anything to go off of. Lance breaks out into a run with a laugh, dragging Keith alongside him.

The night continues like that, Lance pointing out various attractions and Keith following him eagerly across the fairgrounds. By the time the sky is blanketed in a deep midnight color, Lance feels as though barely any time has passed. It seems to slide by when he’s with Keith, everything else slipping away and leaving Keith: his fiery eyes, midnight hair, the soft furrow between his eyebrows, his leather jacket, and the way he smells just slightly of lemons and something else Lance can’t quite put his finger on. It’s intoxicating being around him, and Lance would be content to simply sit and bask in his presence, if he weren’t so busy laughing and bantering with the other boy.

They aren’t able to hit all the rides Lance wanted, but he doesn’t mind. They step off a spinning ride, windswept and breathless, and just as Lance is catching his breath it’s taken away from him again as Keith laces their hands together unprompted. Lance glances up just slightly to see Keith giving him that indecipherable look again.

“It’s getting late,” Keith says, stating it almost reluctantly. Lance just nods. “We probably have time for one more ride.”

“Ferris wheel,” Lance says without hesitation. “Let’s go on the ferris wheel.” Keith simply smiles and nods in agreement. They head off towards the ride, walking slowly rather than racing this time, and Lance feels as though he’s trying to savor every moment with Keith, as if this night will be their last, as ridiculous a notion as it is.

When they arrive at the ferris wheel, it’s lit up in bright hues of red and blue, flashing in different patterns. The line isn’t too long now, and it’s only a few minutes before the pair is climbing into a carriage together. There’s a moment of tense silence between the two, thick with anticipation before the wheel starts up with a telling jolt, and Lance breaks the silence.

“The sky’s really pretty tonight,” he notes.

“Yeah, it is.”

“The sunset was prettier- oh, wait, you weren’t here for that.”

“I said sorry!”

“I’m just saying!” Lance laughs. The silence returns, but it’s more comfortable this time. Lance tries not to focus on where Keith’s leg is pressed up against his, or where his thumb is stroking the side of Lance’s hand almost imperceptibly. If he thought about it too much, surely it would be too overwhelming, and Lance is already struggling to control the incessant thrumming in his chest. He’s so focused on not overthinking that he almost misses what Keith says next.

“Y’know, someone once told me that the stars are our relatives, people we miss that are looking down on us.” It’s said lowly, Keith leaning in while he does it, and it’s most definitely a _line_. The timbre of Keith’s voice almost lulls Lance into it too, before something else strikes him, and the shock must be written on his face because Keith’s brows furrow together and he leans back slightly. Maybe he says something, but Lance’s brain is replaying his last words over and over again because _holy shit Keith remembers_. Naturally, he responds with etiquette and poise.

“_Asshole!_” he shouts, swatting Keith’s shoulder, “You said you didn’t believe in that! You called it bullshit! Now you’re using it to hit on me?”

“W-what?” Keith stutters, looking like a hurt puppy, shock riddling his features.

“_I_ told you that, you- you jerk!” Lance snaps, “You knew this whole time? What, were you just going to kiss me tonight and then disappear again? Or maybe you wanted to get a little further before that part this time, right?” Lance doesn’t care if he’s being unfair, can’t even tell if he is, because confusion is clouding his judgement and years of longing-turned-bitterness is coming up. It’s unprecedented. What was once a pleasant buzz has turned cold and Lance turns away from Keith, staring blankly into the ground falling steadily further under them as the ferris wheels turns once more.

“Lance,” he hears, and Keith’s voice is so vulnerable and stilted that Lance barely refrains from turning back to face him. “I, I would never- I had no idea that was you, please, just let me explain. I’m just as confused as you.” Lance grits his teeth, whipping back around, hoping he looks as frustrated as he feels.

“That’s how I know you Keith, okay?” he growls. “Not to mention the fact that we had class together for years. You basically almost assaulted me after school, threw my shitty attempt at comforting you back in my face, took my first kiss, and didn’t speak to me again for years. And despite all that, I’ve had, like, a massive crush on you forever, and I was willing to move past all of that to try this with you, and now _this_? Have you known it was me this whole time? Were you just using me because you knew all this time I liked you? Because you could and I was _easy_?”

“Lance, _no_,” Keith shakes his head, voice both thick with emotion and stiff with fear at the same time. “I promise, I had no idea that was you. I would never do that to you, Lance. Please, believe me, I never meant to hurt you.” Lance doesn’t respond, he’s not sure he can, torn between feeling betrayed and his instinct to trust Keith.

“I was a mess, at the Garrison,” Keith starts, “not to mention a huge asshole. I know I told you it was because of Shiro going missing, but that doesn’t excuse my actions. I wasn’t thinking about anyone else, ever. I got in a lot of fights, sure, but… I looked for comfort elsewhere too. I couldn’t tell you how many other guys I came onto then, how many one night stands…” Keith looks away from Lance then, ducking his head, and Lance’s chest twists painfully. “I know saying I regret it doesn’t fix it. I was a dumb kid. And I’ve got an exceptionally shitty memory. I can’t even remember that much of what we talked about… just, that part stuck with me. And-” Keith’s head shot back up to look at Lance dead on, “-God, please don’t think I use that as a line on other guys. I _don’t_. It just made me think of you. For obvious reasons, now.” Keith’s mouth snaps shut, and for a few moments it’s silent save for the creaking of the ferris wheel and distant chattering of the crowds.

“I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me, after this,” Keith says, voice painfully hollow. His hand moves from near Lance’s to rest on the handle of the carriage, tightening into a fist. Lance is quiet for a few more moments. He’s still in shock, a little, he thinks, but more from the outburst of emotions than anything else. And he doesn’t feel angry, not when he can still hear Keith’s voice in his head, laced with such pain and sincerity.

_I never meant to hurt you._

“No,” Lance says slowly, feeling Keith shift in his peripheral. “It’s… alright. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so quick to assume the worst. I just freaked out for a second, I thought maybe you’d been- this whole time, and I-”

“Never, Lance,” Keith promises, “I would never do that.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know, it’s okay. It’s- all of it’s okay, Keith.”

“No, it’s not,” Keith snarls, turning to glare at the landscape in front of them. “It’s not okay, because I hurt you. I knew this shit would come back to bite me, and I _deserve_ it-”

“Keith.” Lance reaches up to cup Keith’s jaw with his hands, turning his face so he’ll meet Lance’s eyes. Every line of Keith’s face is pinched deep with regret and shame, and Lance’s stomach drops realizing he caused that. “You’re the most wonderful person I know. Ever since you moved in near us, you’ve done nothing but help me, and make me laugh, and make me feel safe. You- you drove me to work, and fixed Blue, and stood up to Rolo for me. You’ve only ever been good to me, and I should never have doubted you, not even for a second. I was just- scared. I’m sorry.” Before Keith can respond he surges forwards, wrapping his arms around Keith’s back and tucking his forehead into Keith’s shoulder.

Keith is tense for a moment, before he latches a hand onto the back of Lance’s neck and wraps an arm around his back, pressing his nose into the patch of skin just below Lance’s ear.

“Thank you,” Keith says, almost too quietly to hear, and Lance shakes his head in response, trying to communicate that no thanks is necessary. He thinks Keith probably gets it anyways, the way his grip on Lance tightens. It feels like they’re pressed together for an eternity, suspended at the top of the world, before Lance pulls away slightly to look at Keith. Emotion is raw in Keith’s eyes, across his face. Lance can see the last remnants of guilt in his features, but it’s dominated by something else now, a look Lance finds himself getting more and more familiar with.

“I really want to kiss you,” Keith states, voice uncharacteristically cautious. Lance smiles, heat sweeping up his neck.

“Well, I don’t know,” he teases, “Are you going to disappear on me again?”

“No,” Keith breathes, voice laced with sincerity and that guilt Lance hates so much, “I prom-”

“Okay, okay,” Lance reaches up to cradle Keith’s face again, “I get it, too soon to joke about it. _Yes_, you can kiss me, you dork.” Keith’s face lights up at that, and he leans in eagerly.

When their lips connect, Lance’s eyes flutter shut, and fireworks explode behind his eyelids. Keith is a good kisser, pressing deeply into Lance’s mouth while still remaining gentle. His hands slide up to rest on Lance’s sides, and Lance moves his arms to curl around Keith’s neck, tangling his fingers in Keith’s hair. They break apart after what feels like eternity, and Lance rests his forehead against Keith’s, the pair giggling like schoolkids, so enraptured they don’t notice the ferris wheel stop moving.

“So, are you two going to get off?” Pidge’s voice breaks the pleasant silence, and Lance’s face grows hot in mortification as he sees Pidge and Hunk standing off the the side of the ride as people in line wait for him and Keith to exit the ride.

“Guess the ride’s over,” Keith murmurs in amusement, and Lance stands up abruptly to drag him off. They scramble down the stairs back to the dirt of the carnival grounds as quickly as Lance can force them, and after Keith leans in to whisper in Lance’s ear, they head for his motorcycle, passing Pidge and Hunk on the way. Lance glances back before tossing the keys to Blue at his roommates.

“Not a word,” Lance snaps at them. The pair just shrug their shoulders, and smile knowingly at the couple’s backs.

***

When Lance wakes up the next morning, he’s wrapped up in Keith’s embrace, his spine hot with the body heat of the older boy. Early morning light streams into the room where they lay intertwined on Keith’s couch. Lance glances around as much as he can, biting his lip to stop a smile when he sees the notes he used to pack in Keith’s lunch taped onto the fridge. When Keith starts to wake behind him, making grumbling noises, Lance turns over to greet him.

“Morning,” he says when Keith’s midnight eyes finally open. Keith breaks into Lance’s favorite smile yet, brighter than anything, brighter than the morning sun itself.

“Lance.” And Lance burns.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! This is my first piece, although I've been reading fanfics for quite a while now. If you enjoyed, drop a kudos and maybe a comment!


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